[’If you are my follower, I implore you to find and walk your own path. Like myself, I wish to grant you the freedom to follow your heart's every desire, to pursue whatever it is that you want. Should anything or anyone stand in your way—be it physical or spiritual, mortal or immortal—you have the freedom to fight until overcome it, consequences be damned. For as long as you have Faith in me, you will never walk alone.'

Excerpt from: The Relgte of The Lackadaisical Herald of The Lightning Storm: Scroll 3: Chapter 2.]

*

In Zulu culture, the act of animal sacrifice was not one of cruelty, but rather a powerful means of purifying the body and mind using the blood from the lost life. It was a way of washing away the pollution of death, not only for the deceased but also for those that they had known and loved. That was why, in many cases, cleansing rituals had to be done by the family and friends of the deceased after the burial.

For some reason, Langa was nervous today. The last time he had done a cleansing ritual was a few years ago, after Neo got arrested. That incident had nearly torn his entire family apart. They all dealt with it differently, his sister went to church to pray every day, his brother-in-law lashed out at everyone, including the family as well as his employees, and Khaya withdrew into herself. As for Langa, he'd turned to his trusted companion, alcohol, to numb the pain and forget what had happened. Perhaps because of this, he had somewhat impulsively sought revenge against Pranav for introducing Neo to a life of crime.

He was not strong or good at fighting, nor did he have enough influence to fight against Pranav's gang and their connections, so he fought them with the only thing he had, money. With the passive way he lived his life, it had not been easy, but once he threw money into the situation, he was able to make sure that Pranav ended up in prison too. It wasn't his proudest moment because, deep down, he knew that Neo had made his choice and that blaming Pranav was not the solution.

After dealing with that, Langa returned to Eshowe and found a sangoma to perform the cleansing ritual for him. He did not even know the person Neo killed, but his brother-in-law insisted on him doing the ritual, to spare the rest of the family from his curse. He had done so many cleansing rituals ever since he was a child that it was second nature to him. He had done one after his father's death, done two more for his sister's two stillbirths, and done one for every single person that he was acquainted with who died.

He hadn't done one for Makoto, and he was not going to, not until he could help the boy's soul find peace.

Langa made his way down the mountain until he found the spot he had marked on his map the last time he was there. This was where he was going to do his rituals. There was a small pond close to a large baobab tree that cast a shade over the glass beneath it. His mother had always liked resting under the baobab tree on her farm whenever she got tired, so he hoped that this would be a good place for her soul to rest.

Since it was the first time he was doing the ritual for himself without a spiritual guide, Langa got to work skinning and butchering the corrupted goat. He found what he thought were the two organs he was looking for inside, the chyme and the gallbladder. He also collected some of the goat’s blood in a flax.

Langa cleared the area under the tree and took out a large stone tablet from his feathervault bag. He had spent days inscribing his mother’s name on it with his auink. There was no enchantment on it, but since he had infused the enchanting needle with his mana, the inscription remained permanently engraved on the rock. He removed any sticks and wood on the ground and placed the tablet there, leaning against the baobab tree's trunk. He then placed candles all around the tablet in a circle.

It made him unhappy that he was not able to lay her actual body to rest, and he wondered if anyone had closed her eyes after she died. He pushed that thought away. There was nothing he could have done for her. He figured he might as well try to raise his Faith while he was at it by dedicating his rituals to his patron deity. He knew that Adtonifulmin was not fussy about the formal stuff, but it felt right to begin the funeral with a prayer.

"Hey, Lord Adtonifulmin, I'm saying goodbye to my mother today, it's going to fucking suck, so I could really use some company right now if you don't mind," he whispered.

He felt the appalled feelings of multiple deities at his lacklustre prayer, but that was overshadowed by one deity projecting a strong sense of companionship over his entire being from somewhere inside, and he could feel that Adtonifulmin's essence was with him, even before he received the message.

[The Deiwos Clan god: The Lackadaisical Herald of The Lightning Storm, is watching you.]

His master's presence gave Langa the strength to continue the ritual, so he could say everything he needed to his mother without running away from his memories again.

He started by burning the impepho around the grave, and as the smoke went up, he closed his eyes and bowed, repeating some of the Dube clan names for his mother. “Please hear me, MaDube. Dube elimthemde! Dube kaBayisa! Khushwayo! Silwane kaNjila kaNgothoma! Mqhawe! Ngcobomuhle! Mafukuzela!”

He knew that he was probably doing the ritual wrong, but he was no elder, nor was he a sangoma trained in how to talk to spirits. All he wanted was to give his mother's soul rest. Langa knelt before the makeshift grave, the smoke from the burning incense clouding his eyes as he closed his eyes. This was more difficult than he had expected.

“Mama,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper in the quiet forest. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I can barely remember the last time I saw you.”

His fingers trembled as he touched the engraved letters on the makeshift gravestone. It had been years since he saw his mother, and he had been content to run from the painful memories that had shaped his life. Right now, his emotions threatened to suffocate him.

"I hope death has given you the peace you didn't get in life, and that you're with Baba now,” he paused. “I just realised I don't even know how you and Baba even met because he never liked to talk about my mother. Whenever I asked, he would say he would tell me when I was older. Did things not work out between you two because you were so much older than him? Or was it because you were an exceedingly spiritual person and he was from a cursed family? I guess I’ll never know,” Langa said quietly.

As the realisation that he was an orphan now washed over him, Langa's heart filled with sorrow. Whenever his father went to drop him off at his mother's place, he would leave him at the gate. His mother said she would never let a cursed person into her home. Langa was only allowed in because he shared her blood. Thanks to this, he had not been left in her care a lot, his father always preferred leaving him with his sister.

A gust of wind swept through the nearby trees as Langa took a deep breath to gather his emotions and continued. "I wish things could have been different between us, that I could have seen beyond the indifference you always showed me."

He looked away, “But I still remember the little you did for me. Whenever I stayed with you, I was well-fed, had a place to sleep, and had a blanket over me. Your food was excellent, Mama, the best I’ve ever eaten, even better than Sis’Thandi's meals. You made sure that I was warm and full, so thank you.”

Langa felt really pathetic for thanking her for doing the bare minimum required of a parent. He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. What use was it to wallow in misery now?

"I remember that one weekend when I was six years old. Baba had saved enough money to attend a conference in Cape Town and he left me with you. I remember being on the farm planting maize seeds behind you as you ploughed ahead in silence. That day was one of my most cherished moments with you. The taste of your homemade maheu after a long day of farming, the warmth of your smile as you drank umqombothi, not saying a word to me. It's stupid, I know, but that was everything to me as a child."

"I really wish I could hate you." Langa's voice cracked as he continued, now filled with pain. "I can never forgive you because you dumped me at Sis'Thandi's house after Baba died. She didn't have to, but she cared for me despite her husband's misgivings. Watching how close she was with her children made me long for a mother. She was the one who taught me what it meant to receive that kind of love. And now, here I am, crying for a mother who never did shit for me."

He sat down, thinking about how he'd always send his mother money after he started working. She always received the money he sent to her, without sending it back for being cursed. Even though she never said thank you, it made him feel useful to her. He knew that it was pathetic.

As a child, when he had been scouted, he’d gone to ask her to come with him, but she refused to move with the family to Johannesburg, stating that Eshowe was her home, where she felt at peace with her ancestors. At that time, she had given Langa a look filled with so much pity that it made him uncomfortable. Then she sighed and told him to go with Thandi, where he belonged.

Thoughts of the past made him pause, his breath shuddering in his chest. He poured alcohol over the gravestone. "I brought you something to drink, Mama," he whispered, his voice choked. "I wish I could have shared a drink with you, just once. Maybe then we could have found some common ground, some way to really communicate."

His throat tightened as he struggled to say the next words. He wiped away the tears, his hand trembling against his cheek. Silence filled the area, broken only by the sound of Langa's sobs. "I miss you, Mama," he whispered through his tears. "I miss the mother you could have been, the bond we could have shared. But I guess it's too late now."

Dammit, this was why he hated dealing with shit. He wiped his tears, needing to be done with this.

He lit up the impepho once more and bowed his head. “In the name of Adtonifulmin, The Lackadaisical Herald of The Lightning Storm, I commit your soul to your ancestors. May the amadlozi akwaDube accept your soul into the afterlife. And if the spirits of the dead truly watch over their descendants, as you believed, I ask that you watch over me. Guide me, protect me, and help me heal the wounds that your absence has left behind. Since you didn't do anything for me while you were alive; the least you can do is watch over me in death,” he said.

“Lala ngoxolo, Mama.” Rest in peace, Mother.

He felt an invisible hand squeezing his shoulder in comfort and he accepted it. A warm essence wrapped around him and he allowed it in. He felt a strength that he had been lacking, filling him up and giving him the courage to move forward. Facing things was hard, but it was also fulfilling now that he knew he wasn't going through it alone. Adtonifulmin helped him find that strength.

It didn't mean that he was ready to open up his mind and deal with all the shit he locked away, but it was a start. He buried the child who was grateful for the bare minimum from his mother. From now on, he would not allow his desire for affection from others to cloud his judgement and lead him to accept less than what he deserved.

It felt good not to be alone right now, and he wondered how much more comforting his master's presence would be if he were a Visage. That was one thing he would like to experience if he chose to upgrade the contract.

[You have performed a soul ritual in the presence of your patron deity. Your faith has increased.]

Langa stood up, silently thanking Lord Adtonifulmin before leaving the grave behind, and walking towards the pond. Now he was ready to let his mother go, cleanse himself from her death and move forward.

In the wind, his title alerted him to the presence of multiple breaths of life. Langa waited for an attack or for them to show themselves, his body ready to react the instant anyone appeared nearby. However, even after several moments, nothing happened. Had he sensed wrong? It felt like he was surrounded by at least five people, but he could see nothing. The breaths did not feel hostile, instead, they were just observing him.

He shrugged. If he was surrounded by invisible player killers, there was nothing he could do but wait for them to show themselves. If there were too many of them, then he would use his speed to run away instead of fighting.

He was uncomfortable bathing fully naked in a dangerous forest while being watched, so he removed his jerkin and pulled down the top of his jumpsuit.

The surface of the pond reflected the red of the setting sun. It almost looked like the pond was bleeding. Taking a deep breath, Langa approached the water's edge, and reached into his feathervault bag, retrieving a carefully selected assortment of herbs and plants. These were not ordinary plants; they held the power to cleanse, purify, and wash away the pollution of death. Surprisingly, he'd been able to find some herbs similar to the ones used on Earth.

He took the most important herb, umsuzwane, back home, the plant played a central role in both the purification of the dead and the living and threw it inside the pond. It was believed to have protective properties, warding off evil spirits and ensuring the sanctity of the ritual. He then took the chyme that he had removed from the dead goat’s body and placed it in the pond. He also placed a few drops of the goat’s blood inside as well.

Langa began the first step of the ritual; normally, he would call for his ancestors to cleanse him, but that wasn’t necessary anymore. “Master,” he said quietly. “Wash me clean from the lingering pollution from my mother’s death.”

From the teachings of his culture, Langa understood that death, while a natural part of life, left behind a lingering presence that could taint the living. He retrieved the flax with the blood of the goat and poured more of it into the pond, mingling with the water.

As the blood mixed with the clear liquid, Langa felt some release. He never knew if the rituals worked or made a difference but they always made him feel better. He carefully selected a mixture of roots and leaves, crushing them in his hand with his inhuman strength, and he rubbed the concoction between his palms, using them as soap. He understood that the energy of death could cling to not just his body, but his soul as well, so he kept the candles and impepho burning.

He dipped his hands into the water of the pond. He paused, his Avatar title sensing movement from one of the breaths of life around him, but still sensing no hostility, he resumed the ritual. He cupped his hands together, gathering the blessed water, and gently splashed it over his face and chest.

[You have performed a cleansing ritual in the presence of your patron deity.

Your Faith has increased

+1% Death resistance for 60 seconds]

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Another surprise. He decided to do a cleansing ritual before he went to fight Kindaro, it would protect him from his death magic. He wondered what kind of ritual would give him a temporary increase in his mental resistance.

[Congratulations! Thanks to your increase in faith, your patron deity has Blessed your cleansing ritual.

+All uncommon rank and below maladies in your body have been cleansed.]

[You have cleansed the uncommon malady: Stalking Shadow Hex from a player (1) Tier above you.

+95 Karma]

“What?” Langa asked incredulously. “What the hell is that, system?”

[Stalking Shadow Hex

Malady type: Uncommon

Inflicted by: Perinda Housci (Player)

Effects: The caster will always know your location as long as the malady remains inside of you. The longer the malady remains in your body unnoticed, the more powerful it grows.]

”That son of a bitch!” Langa ground his teeth in anger. When had Perinda hexed him with a malady? Actually, that was hardly surprising since he had been following Langa for over an hour before he even noticed him that day. Why didn’t the system protect him from this? Was the malady not considered an attack? Was that why, even though Perinda's karma pressure had not been that strong, he had received such a huge backlash damage?

The next time he saw that arsehole, he was attacking and killing him, the level difference be damned. His anger would have to wait though, as there was something more pressing he needed to attend to.

Langa stepped out of the water, feeling refreshed. Making sure that his headband was on securely, he said, “Thanks for waiting. I don’t know if you wanted to wait until the ritual was over or if you are just a pervert who enjoyed watching me bathe shirtless, but you can come out now.”

“Come on,” a woman said softly. There was a deep accent to her voice. “I was just being polite.”

She materialised into existence from thin air, walking casually towards him. Her skin was a deep shade of brown and the dark bronze scales all over her whole body reflected the dim light of the red sun. As she approached him, her oval face shifted into a small smile that highlighted the floral red tattoo on her cheek. Her short, pitch-black hair, like a nest of serpents, was coiled around her head. The mesmerising gaze in her slitted green eyes could make even the bravest of souls rigid, and Langa blinked in surprise.

On her tight-fitting bodysuit, she wore the badge of a scythe placed over a robe, the letters H.R etched on it, the symbol of the Hallow Reaper Cult. Langa could feel a sharp, fierce, and deadly gust inside her karma along with a repulsive aura screaming at him that she was dangerous and he should be afraid. It puzzled him keeping him from reacting because she did not look scary or hostile.

“Well, I didn't hate what I saw as well, so there’s that, I suppose,” the woman said. She had to be some type of snakekin because there were two small fang-like teeth visible in her mouth when she smiled.

“Thanks, I guess, so who are you?” Langa asked casually as she stood about a metre in front of him.

“Hello Blitzhunter, my name is Liberty, the fifth Insurgent of Anarchy, and the Administrator for the Hallow Reaper Cult in the First Storey,” she said, stepping closer. The closer she got, the more every instinct in him screamed not to look into her eyes, and he made sure to look just above her head.

The hair on Langa’s neck stood on end the closer she got. Liberty. Did all of Anarchist’s Insurgents have to give themselves pretentious names? There was no way that was her real name. He had not used his team player title to scan her because that would mean he would have to unequip his Avatar title, and he was not going to do that while surrounded by Hallow Reaper Cult members.

Was she here for the Opus Key, as Perinda warned, or was she here to kill him for taking out so many of the Accari Crows? She was neither a voident nor a red player, instead, she was neutral like him. He could feel the tier difference between them in her karma, she had to be either late Tier 2 or early Tier 3. In that case, there was no way Langa could defeat her, but she couldn’t hurt him unless she wanted to suffer the backlash.

Her eyes searched him for something, fear perhaps or or respect. She must be here to threaten him, so he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. He didn't like showing other people when he was afraid, so he compartmentalised his feelings, pushing any thoughts of fear into the back of his mind, outwardly feigning calmness. “I’m Langa, which if you’re here, I’m sure you know,” he said. “So, what can I do for you, Liberty?”

“I have an offer for you from both our guildmaster and our deputy guildmaster,” she said, her eyes drawing him in. “They want you to join our guild, and they sent me personally to sweeten the deal.”

It was interesting that she emphasised that both the guild master and Anarchist wanted him to join when it would have been sufficient to mention the guild master alone. He'd been hunting their subordinates, the Accari Crows, and the Hallow Reapers wanted him to join them?

Was this some kind of test? There was no way The Hallow Reapers knew what his type was and decided to send a beautiful, strong, older woman to come and recruit him, right?

"Why the hell would I? And you're here to sweeten the deal? What does that even mean? Did they send you here because they think the only reason I haven't joined the Guardians is because they haven't tried to tempt me with a honeytrap?" he asked, watching her closely.

"Honeytrap? Me?" She raised her eyebrows, looking appalled. She seemed offended by his audacity and lack of fear. “I don't think you realise how thin the ice you're standing on right now, is,” she said, pulling out a long needle from her belt. A drop of green liquid dripped from the tip. “You can't speak disrespectfully to me like that.”

"Sure, I can. I don't know you, and I don't have to respect you. You're the one who snuck up on me unprovoked. If anyone should be feeling disrespected, it's me,” he said, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

“What?” She appeared thrown off by his behaviour. “No matter how fast you are, this needle will be in your throat before you can take one step.”

Once again, a force from within her karma seemed intent on making him recoil, flinch back and flee from her. He did not understand why he would be feeling that way, given that she did not look threatening, just stunningly beautiful.

That was not to say he let down his guard, of course. She was much higher level than him, and dangerous. Langa was already in a bad mood because of Perinda, and he allowed that frustration to fuel his heartbeat and activate his attribute. Time slowed down, and he used his velocity to cross the distance, appearing right in front of her before deactivating it.

“Wanna test that theory?” he asked. Liberty blinked and jumped back. From her perspective, he must have appeared to have reached her in an instant.

“Actually, I would,” a voice behind him said, the woman in front of him disappearing as he felt a sharp object pressing against his neck. “Stand down.”

Holy crap, she was either faster than him or he'd been talking to an illusion this whole time. He spun around to face her, thinking that she was talking to him, but actually, she seemed to be talking to her companions. Langa could feel multiple breaths of life that had been approaching them, retreating into the forest. His title hadn't even alerted him to their approach.

“Not bad,” he said, taking a few steps back to create distance between himself and Liberty. He kept his voice neutral as if he were not bothered by the difference in levels between them.

“You're both bold and reckless.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows, putting away her needle. “You really like to flirt with danger, don't you?”

“Flirting with danger?” He asked quietly. He couldn't deny that, not while the thrill of how close he'd been to death a second ago, coursed through his veins, fueling his heart like a drug. If she wanted him dead, there was nothing he could do, so he decided, fuck it, he was going to abandon caution and have fun with this.“Oh, my bad, I thought you said your name was Liberty,” he grinned.

She seemed startled as his meaning dawned on her, then she threw back her head and laughed. “I'll tell you this, whatever I expected coming here today, it wasn't this. You're...odd."

Was that a good thing or not? "Is that why you're emitting such a vicious, forceful aura?"

She levelled him with a gaze. "I don't do it on purpose. That's just my cadence. My whole body is a walking weapon, that's just your instincts warning you to stay away," she told him quietly, face impassive. "You asked me a question earlier, right? Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm not the honey the guild sends to trap men, most of them can't stand to be near me. No, I'm the poison the guild sends to kill the unworthy. So, Langa, will you join us?"

Langa thought those men needed their eyes checked, but he decided that voicing it would give this woman more power. "Is that offer optional?” he asked her.

“Of course," she said with another smile, moving even closer to him. Less than 20 centimetres separated the two of them now. The scent coming from her was bitter and sharp, but not overpowering.

Langa tensed slightly, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe that,” he said. “Considering how you and your men have me surrounded.” He wasn’t completely sure how many of them there were, but he knew there were at least ten.

“Fascinating,” Liberty said, as she walked past him, and stood behind him. His skin prickled when he felt her scaly hands on his back. “Don’t worry about them, sweetheart, they always follow me around on the guildmaster’s orders. He says they are only here to protect me.”

He could feel her pressed against his back, and as much as he wanted to be able to grab Tonare and cut her up in case she became hostile, he knew that attacking first would protect her from the backlash. What the hell was she up to? She'd said she wasn't a honeytrap, yet he could feel her warmth behind him.

“From me?” He was surprisingly able to keep the trembling from his voice, and no, it wasn't from fear. “Haibo, ntombi, you're late Tier 2. I doubt I could even put a scratch on you.”

“Maybe so, but after that little stunt you just pulled, a girl can never be too careful.” Her voice was in his ear, the whisper nearly lost in the wind when she spoke. “Where’s Amalgam’s key, Langa?”

Instantly, he knew that the reason she got so close wasn't to flirt with him but to ask him that question. Did her guildmaster's guards not know about the missing key?

“What key?” Langa asked breathlessly.

“If you don’t know, forget about it,” she said, licking her lips. "Do you know how tiger-snakes hunt?" She was way too fucking close, and the breath coming from her voice was warm against his neck.

"They coil their bodies around their victims, breaking their bones?" he asked as he felt her scaly hands run up his arms from behind.

"No. We wait and listen from the shadows, and when you let your guard down, we pounce, quickly sinking our fangs into your neck to subdue you," she whispered, her lips on his neck. Langa could easily Flash Step away from her pressing body. But only if he wanted to.

"Whoa, I honestly can't tell if you're threatening me or trying to seduce me," he said honestly.

"I'm sorry," she said sweetly, her hand ghosting over his arm. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"You're not," he told her.

“Oh, my dear Langa." Her short laugh was a sweet sound in his ears. "You're cute, but if you’re lying to me about the key, Anarchist will give me no choice but to sink my teeth into you and numb your pretty head. The venom will paralyse you, and you will feel the pain of every muscle in your body solidifying, your heart turning into stone while your brain remains wide awake. I might be merciful and cut your head off before the horror of it destroys your mind. Hmmm, your head will be the centrepiece of my collection. Forever frozen in terror for me.”

Goosebumps crawled all over Langa’s skin, the threat whispered like a promise. The thought of being frozen awake, paralysed, terrified, and trapped triggered every single one of his worst fears. If he allowed himself to imagine that scenario, he would trigger his claustrophobia. He couldn’t lose control in front of her, so he pushed all thoughts of fear to the back of his mind, keeping his voice steady and casual. “Damn ntombi, you really know how to get a guy's heart racing, don’t you?” he asked.

“Hmm, I can feel your raging heartbeat from back here,” she told him. “But I promise, he’ll only send me after you if I believe that you're lying.”

“As much as I would love to see you again, I like my head where it is even more. I’m not lying to you," he lied smoothly.

He didn’t know if she believed him. "Housci was right, I do like you," Liberty told him softly, using one hand to push his dreadlocks away from his neck before once more placing it on his arm. Energy flowed in her hand and her comcer lit up. “Won't you be a dear and give a girl your mana signature, please, sweetheart?”

Langa wondered what she would do if he said no. He wasn't planning to, of course, after all, there was no harm in being able to contact a high-ranking member of The Hallow Reapers directly. He told himself that was the only reason why he infused his own mana into the comcer, exchanging mana signatures with her.

Her hands were gentle on him as they slid down his arms until she reached his hands, intertwining their fingers. Langa’s heartbeat intensified. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Liberty took a deep breath. “You have so many beautiful emotions inside you, I feel them rising and falling like water in a bowl...They keep overflowing, yet you force them back into the bowl so easily. I don’t know if it’s good self-control, cowardice or forced willpower but I like how you suppress your fear,” she whispered softly in his ear. “I enjoy the company of a man who’s not afraid of me, it's so rare.”

He could feel her breath on his neck as she whispered, his pulse weakening. “And I love the feel of your smooth and lovely skin too,” she said.

He hitched a breath, and one second she was wrapped around him, and the next, she stepped away. Langa turned around to look at her, his body cold in the absence of her warmth.

“If you prove yourself worthy, there might be a place for you among The Insurgents. I would love to have you.” She told him.

Langa couldn't help but give her a small smile. "No chance in hell."

“Damn," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "At least get to know a girl first before you reject her."

He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, ntombi, but that won't be necessary. I'm not into evil guilds or evil women."

"Hmm, it's a good thing I'm not evil, then," she said, and licked her lips again.

“So what, you don't believe in good and evil, like the followers of The Thousand Undead?” he asked. He hated that philosophy.

“No. Evil exists.” Her lightheartedness vanished instantly, and her lips tightened, eyes looking away. “I have seen evil. I have walked with it, and I have been bound under evil’s chains. Trust me when I say this, Langa…if you think I am evil, then you have not truly seen evil.”

The karma that had been repelling him, the cadence that had been forcefully pushing him away, suddenly stilled, and there was nothing coming from her. Langa stared at her. Who was this woman, really? The more she spoke, the more interested he was in her.

“Fair,” he said. “But I’m still not joining your guild.”

“You know how to reach me if you change your mind.” She smiled as if the previous agitation on her face was a fluke. “Don't be a stranger and give a girl a call sometime. See you around, Langa.”

She turned around and disappeared into thin air. He sensed her companions leaving as well but he could not sense her anymore. What a dangerous woman.

Langa watched the space she had occupied a moment ago, heart racing. He shook his head, holding onto Tonare to calm himself down. Liberty was very interesting, but what the fuck was that? He was sure that she hadn’t used any skill on him, otherwise, The Unrivalled would have protected him. Did he really just almost let himself get seduced by Mini-Medusa? Yikes, he needed to get laid. Or better yet, he needed to take out his frustration on the person who had annoyed him the most today. First with the hex, then sending Liberty to him, Perinda was getting on his last nerve.

He opened his map, checking how far away the Vonelle Heilliege Guild’s base, Heilliege’s Gorge, was. If he couldn’t hurt Perinda directly, he would go after the voidents in his guild. The demonkin had seemed attached to his guild, so this would be enough to make Langa feel better.

The area was over 100 kilometres from where he was, and it was a yellow zone surrounded by level 10 hunting fields. Unless Langa wanted to run there, he’d have to rent a lucent carriage or a flying carpet. But he wondered if Aquila and his team would agree to accompany him there, so they could gain experience hunting in a level 10 field and he could get a free ride.

Perinda was a voident, so Langa was sure there were other voidents to hunt in his guild, even if there wasn't a voi-den in their territory. It was time to send Perinda a message to leave him the fuck alone by living up to his cringy nickname.