Granny POV

Black, slimy tentacles writhed out from the grey rune before latching themselves against every limb possible. Before the masked one held a chance to react, he found himself entirely bound by Granny's binding incantation. Granny tapped her staff off the ground; a snarling cry echoed as two fiendish-looking pale hands rose away from the soil.

Granny released her staff and began forming hand seals, mirrored ideally by the two pale hands with callously long bronze fingernails. She completed the seal, locking her three fingers together while her index fingers formed a triangle.

The pale pair of hands also complied.

"Garunda, howl for me... my dearest," her voice remarked coldly.

A loud shriek cried forth and echoed across the partially grassed hill. Moments later, the ground tremored, and a loud stir of activity began to trouble the dark soil. Numerous pale hands started to rise into the air, and a shimmering golden sickle materialized one by one between their gnarled fingers.

Once the 50 or so hands were armed, they darted towards the masked figure, bound against Granny's rune. Amidst the terrible ordeal he was about to face, he could merely utter a word in response.

"Heh-heh-well... shit."

Slice

Stab (x10)

***

Time inched forward, and by this hour, the sun had gradually begun to fall. Marring the skies were the evening summer's glow of auburn tints formed by red, lavender, and gold strokes.

A strange calm flowed over the farm. The gentle winds walked through the farmlands; the golden stalks swayed while the tiny blades of grass folded away from the wind.

Two brown-furred squirrels could be seen racing between the crowded maze filled with tall golden stalks. Their perfectly groomed coats were covered in pale spots, their wet noses sniffling at everything around them. Their goal, as was always the same case this hour of the day, was the great, splendorous oak tree sitting on top of the furthest hill. For as long as the two little ones could remember, the oak was their home—a haven from the challenges and subtle dangers often sheltered away beneath the shadows.

Hence, the two of them decided to complete their endeavours before the sun fell; that way, they were less likely to encounter anything dangerous. Until today, such a routine highlighted the pair's ingenuity. Racing across the field of golden wheat, a hoarse stench caught the pair off guard suddenly. They slowed their paces before cautiously scanning across the golden straw field.

One of the two looked to have noticed something; it moved ahead in short bursts before its smooth fur visibly stood on end. It darted back the way it came, leaving its compatriot confused before it crept forward a little to see what the fuss was.

The squirrel pressed its body between two golden stalks and sniffed at the air several times. Its large, beady eyes snapped open with horror as it found its skies suddenly filled with gnarled, bony fingers twisting and clawing at the air. Dozens of them aligned across the vast spread of green up until the roots of the large, splendorous oak.

It shifted its shaken glare to the side, where it flinched upon seeing a familiar human staring towards it with slightly weak eyes. With a noticeable sheen glazed against her brown face, strings of white hair matted against her skin. The human always fed it and was also the one who first carried it to the large oak, where it stored its nuts and enjoyed both the richness of the tasty figs and the cool shade it brought. The squirrel felt a discomfort with what to do. Naturally, its instincts were screaming towards it to flee, but something else was holding it in place—some form of familiar curiosity.

While it studied the strange atmosphere a little longer, there was suddenly a change in the air. A looming shadow towered over it, bringing a cooling chill racing down its spine. The squirrel looked up, but it was already too late. A grotesque hand lowered and pinched it by the scruff of its fur, prying its stubby legs away from the ground as it whisked it up and high into the uncharted skies. The squirrel felt its heart racing, trying to do everything in its power to break free. But it quickly realized that was futile; at this point, the little fellow was half expecting the finality of death to fall finally. However, while its eyes darted around, it soon came face to face with the most curious scene it had ever witnessed.

These strange, slender, bony, and disgusting-looking pale arms were everywhere! Uprooting away from the peaceful soil, covering the entire partial hill towards the oak tree.

The squirrel couldn't fathom what sort of nightmare it had stumbled into. Its beady eyes scanned the area beneath it.

Much to its surprise, the hand holding it up was more extended than the other pale limbs and continued to carry it towards the splendorous oak tree carefully. Evading the rest of the arms below.

With frightening curiosity, it looked behind itself, catching a glimpse of that human who always fed it, wearing a broad smile as it watched it being carried away.

The squirrel felt its heartbeat racing again; it dutifully hoped it wasn't being carried away to its end right now. It was ever so hungry and tired and would do anything to have the chance to run back.

Granny stood rooted on her heels, watching her rank 5 cursed incantation carrying the squirrel back to the towering oak tree.

Once she deemed the little furball was safe, she moved her gaze back toward the masked stranger again. What was left of his corpse was still being strung against her black tentacle incantation. Only now was he a lot different looking than he was earlier on. His entire body was covered in his leaking blood, with numerous holes and wounds covering his body.

The top hat remained surprisingly glued onto his helm despite his lowered helm.

By now, Granny was confident the masked fellow was either dead or on the cusp of it.

For the past few hours, he had been forced to endure the countless bombardments of constant attacks. Although on their own, a single slash of a scythe wasn't usually any good against dealing enough damage to any seasoned adventurer or Arcanist. But Granny had long tweaked and reworked how Garuda's Corridor worked. She increased its efficiency with countless years of experience and practice to produce a devastating output. By summoning almost 100 arms from the accursed pit, she could arm each one and have them obey the rituals of the spell. A single knife stab each, or sometimes x3, depending on the level of Mana she infused into the magic. That would be 100 arms each dealing 3 times worth of damage per minute.

Now, she deeply regretted not preparing earlier. However, preparing for such an encounter would be pretty challenging. Despite calling herself semi-retired, Granny still admonished herself for allowing such a foe to make her go this far. In her heyday, there wasn't a soul breathing who could catch her off guard, nor were there many who would attempt to do so.

This opened the door to the mysterious undertones of this encounter. Someone knew an awful lot about her past, and she could barely count the number of fellows who knew the truth about her throughout her glittering career.

Neither Little Su nor Demoria knew the secrets she buried beneath this farm, so how in the world did a nameless stranger find out? Her attention swiftly moved towards the two little ones she had safely placed beneath the oak tree. The golden storm from her conjured Owl continued circling above the oak, reminding her she had left safety measures for the two. But still, Granny understood the implications of dragging this fight out further.

"It's time to end this, rip his head off, and let us be done with it," her dark passenger spoke through her lips.

But Granny felt a somewhat different approach was needed for now.

Too many mysterious things were going on to let death be the end for this fellow so easily. To dare such a feeble attempt on her life and the genuine chance this fellow wasn't alone...

Her willow-pale brows narrowed before she summoned her staff again and waved it lightly before her. A small wave of wind moved, and the standing pale fingers parted aside like blades of grass. Granny casually made her way through the narrow walkway, edging closer toward the masked fellow.

"What are you doing? This is foolishness. You need to end this now!"

"Not yet, this is strange. There is something very wrong about him and that mask. Heheh—whoever is pulling the strings must think I'm simple enough to let this go. No chance in hell."

"Tsk! You're turning into your old self, hardheaded and cunning. For the sake of your mana core, at least allow me to cast a warding spell."

Granny's left hand raised involuntarily, with the staff firmly in her grasp. She knocked four points against the empty air, and a dark voice spoke.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

{Robes of Iron Owlsmen}

A black surge of light crackled into existence, followed by black inky wings forming behind her hunched back. Where the hood would usually be, the outline of a giant owl's head was in its place. Golden particles appeared, adorned against the inky black robe hovering just against Granny's back.

She eventually reached the foot of the assailant she had propped high above her. Her eyes then trailed towards the profuse amounts of blood caked against the ground. Even for high-ranked Arcanists, losing this much blood would spell trouble if a body regenerative potion wasn't consumed quickly enough. Granny furrowed her brows before holding out her staff.

{Ena! (Heal}

A bright green light danced wonderfully over the tip of her grotesque wooden staff. The lights rose steadily before coagulating against the grievous wounds and forming a slimy balm.

Granny closed her one good eye for a few moments, using this time to take advantage of the circulation of negative energy flowing around the atmosphere. She knew it wasn't enough to pay for the deficit by expending large amounts of her Mana, but it was better than doing nothing.

A short while later, she heard a sharp gasp followed by hoarse coughing. Slowly, her eyelid flickered open. Her gaze gently trailed upwards towards the fellow again. He had just woken up by the sounds of it. She silently observed him twisting his masked helm from one side to the next, slowly unearthing himself away from the befuddled daze.

"Aha... I... I'm alive?" His voice almost croaked brokenly with gladness.

"Barely. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll ensure you don't suffer."

"Gyarugk!" He groaned, vomiting blood again. "He-heh-heh... a-alright... ask away."

"Who are you... truly, and how do you know about me?"

"I... Did I tell you before? I am simply a tr-travelling Ad-adventurer... And who wouldn't know the great—"

Granny knocked her staff against the floor and spoke darkly.

{Garuda's Corridor... Sword Bearers}

Schlick! Slicing!

Two slender pale hands rose from the soil behind her; two long stainless katanas were between their gnarled grasps.

Granny didn't flinch and commanded them to attack.

"W-w-w-ait-waittttttttttttt—Gyraaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Splishhh

The two swords buried themselves into his outstretched arms, causing a carmine spray to sprout free.

"I won't ask again... who are you?" Granny stood almost motionless while a rain of blood splattered against her face. With his head remaining lowered, his raspy breaths escaped through in weak and hoarse intervals.

"Grgh... S-s-o..."

"Speak up before I lose my patience," she warned.

"Au-ao... S-so... Kyukukuku—this is fun... this is so-so... f-fun."

Granny's brow furrowed again uncomfortably.

"How does he still have energy?"

There wasn't any real logical explanation as to how this strange figure was still breathing to the point he could converse with her. He was too weird to remain alive. She knew she had allowed her curiosity to run rampant for far too long. Granny held out her right hand and posed for the summoning of her book.

"BEHIND YOU!" Her dark passenger called out.

Granny flinched, feeling a coldness running down the nape of her neck. Without a second thought, she forwent her earlier intent and swung her staff towards her right-hand side. She narrowly made it in time, intercepting three porcelain teacups bearing against her staff with ferocity.

Granny's brow shifted slightly; she recalled that earlier attack where these strange cups were first tossed towards her. The weight behind their push was far greater than she realized. She could only brace herself for the expected outcome. Seconds later, her entire body was lifted forcefully and sent flying across the air; she skittered against the ground 300 meters away before slamming heavily against the warm soul.

A large gust kicked up, and covered the area beneath the hill. Granny needed a few moments to steady herself; she had no clue what hit her.

"Are you alright?"

"Urgh—yes, I'm fine." She wasn't hurt. Thankfully that earlier ward cast cut most of the damage apart by 70%. But mentally she was getting tired of all this. Once she had gingerly risen to her feet, her gaze just so happened to catch one of those porcelain cups hurled towards her, now submerged in the cold soil, with half of its handle missing. Granny grimaced, taking in the strange human face, almost grinning against the cup.

"Abbra! Lord Abbra is awake! Hail the King! The king has come back!"

The tiny voice was surprisingly loud and irritating to her ears. Granny swiftly knocked her cane against the air, casting a Rank 1 warding spell to shield her senses from any mental attack she sensed. Then she peered towards the masked fellow still contained within her spell. And for the first time since their battle had started, her gaze drew a weary look against them.

'That magic, I couldn't... I couldn't see it?'

'Don't panic. There's a cause and effect for everything. Focus, don't let him worm his way into your thinking.'

Granny nodded in agreement, her jaw set with determination as she faced the enigmatic figure again. She knew she couldn't afford to underestimate him, couldn't allow herself to be caught off guard by his strange powers and cryptic words.

With caution, she approached him again, this time tracing a circle around him, making sure there weren't any traps she had failed to pick up on. She held her aged and wrinkly palm to the side, summoning her grimoire. "Book," she commanded, wasting no time chanting a Rank 4 incantation.

"Terra, the terrible, bury me in the dirt, Earthrth... Red Coffin}."

A rapturous quake erupted, causing the entire soil to cave inwards, and a giant sinkhole began to form in the earth.

"Whoa-whoa—you can't be serious? Haha— I was playing! Let's not take it too far," she heard the figure pleading.

Granny swiped her fingers against her grimoire, and the tall, slender, pale fingers of Garuda, the terrible shivered into action. The closest ones beside the masked assailant swiftly latched themselves to him, all the while the ground turned into sinking quicksand, bringing the countless erected pale hands sinking with it.

"H-h-hey now—this is beyond excessive! Burying someone alive is a disastrous way to go, you know! Show some bloody restraint! C-come one! I was...I was playing around!"

His voice drifted onto deaf ears as Granny showed no signs of relenting. Her slightly annoyed gaze drifted skyward, where she made eye contact with the gliding golden Owl still circling the oak tree. Her golden eye shone with a dangerous light, and the creature swept low before hovering just beside her with its helm bowed.

"Hyup!" She tapped her cane softly against the ground and jumped onto its back.

At a vantage point, Granny could directly see the swirling earth below. Countless pale hands were being swept into the tide, forming reefs of pale bones being swallowed into a dark pit. And at its centre was the masked gentleman, still hurling pleas and his dissatisfaction towards the looming disaster. Granny stared down, her expression unyielding while her hand beheld her wooden staff. She awaited the earth to sink deep enough until a large crater appeared, and then she held out her staff again and spoke.

"Serpent of flames, glamouring coals from Helgarth, roar for me, O ye despicable tongues of Ignus...

{Great Fireball}."

A set of amber runes shone against the misshapen groove of her cane. A spark of flames danced on the end of her wooden stump; a driving wind circled and roared the tiny wisp of flame into life. A ball of twisting fire gradually grew into a giant monstrosity, and Granny was forced to draw herself away a few feet from the smouldering large fire.

She watched calmly while her Rank 5 incantation fell towards the earth.

Her open pages fluttered, and a golden light traced the many pages filled with dark runes. Granny's fingers busily danced across one of the pages again like a harpist. She tossed her hand towards the standing oak, conjuring a wide azure net over the entire tree. Along with everything placed beneath and against it, a bluish-see-through barrier cloaked them in seconds, setting her heart at ease toward the expected sound set to come.

The fireball struck the earth with a thundering roar, the force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the ground and air alike. Flames erupted from the point of contact, and a seething inferno consumed everything in its path, turning both soil and stone to ash and cinder.

Granny watched from above, her golden eye narrowed against the searing heat and blinding light of the conflagration below. She could feel the power of the magic thrumming through her veins, a wild, untamed thing that set her soul alight with its fury.

But...

* Blergh *

She covered her mouth as blood splattered against her wrinkled palm. She had crossed the threshold of her limit.