Ry’s sword was no good in blocking the impending doom. The black behemoth of a sword snapped his blade in half without a twitch. The swing barely lost momentum before slamming against the ground between Ry’s feet. Blood sprayed.

“Fireball!” I screamed, pointing my palm at the death before me.

The same hellish process began. Fire whirled in my palm, extending into a fireball, growing and growing. The plated man, through his visor, met my panicked eyes. He tried to yank his sword from the floor to no avail. The sword was stuck.

The swordsman jumped backwards, abandoning his sword just as the fireball launched. My attack connected with Ry’s body, splattering lava all over the path it had trailed. Ry’s corpse burned to cinders.

Worse, a stray spark of lava hit Em in the left shoulder.

She screamed in pure agony. For but a moment, she was distracted from the defense.

That moment was enough for a crossbow bolt from an eager cultist to pierce her skull.

The most primitive of wails escaped from my mouth. I wanted to close my eyes and die right there. Instead, I watched the fire spread onto Em’s corpse. The girl was like gasoline to my fireball. The flames spread to the carpet below her.

My adrenaline-filled body barely recognized reality. My allies were dead.

And I was still surrounded.

My next actions were, and always will be, a haze in memory. Something within me snapped. I recall screaming “Fireball! Fireball! Fireball!” repeating the word faster than Shiela’s system could register. I tossed fireballs at the plated man. I tossed fireballs at cultists. I tossed fireballs at the church.

And when my vision was filled with nothing but burning holiness, I tossed fireballs at fireballs.

How I wasn’t shot back was a mystery. Rakash must have protected me, though the details were lost in the mess of fire.

Anything wooden in the church was promptly burned. Benches. Carpets. The wolf’s statue. All were recycled to life anew as black ash. The stone foundation itself struggled to resist the temptation. I was hell itself. Nothing could escape the power of my level-one fireballs.

My allies were dead. I had directly killed Em. What reason did I have to filter my shots?

At some point during the process, I had the conscious thought that an escape through the hellhole I had created could prove slightly problematic. I paused my barrage; I hadn’t caught sight of crossbows or plate armor for the last fifteen fireballs.

Holy seven hells, I thought, coughing under the heat. It dawned on me that I wouldn’t be walking out of this alive. The escape was so impossibly blocked that I simply stared at destruction, hoping some brilliant idea would come to my head.

No ideas came. The fire only spread. Shiela bless the men scorched from my war crimes.

Oh, God, where was Rakash? Had I killed her too?

I collapsed on my knees. If my soul had been black before arriving in this damned country, it was now a devilish crimson. I could very well have been named Satan himself.

Why? was all I could think through my tears. What have I done?

The church burned. Flames spread all around me. I coughed from the smoke. Within minutes, I would burn alive.

My shocked survival instincts panicked. Despite my crimes, I didn’t want to die. Dear God, I had to get out of here!

Shiela, or fate or whatever, must have read my thoughts.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

My body felt it first. The building’s foundations trembled from the unidentifiable impact. An opening appeared within the wall of flames by force of wind, as if an invisible fighter jet had flown past the front doors and through the back. Flames were pushed back to the left and right of the mysterious force that left windows shattered in its wake.

I stared in awe and fear at the front doors. At the source of the impact stood a red-haired swordsman with a glimmering greatsword. Nearly kneeling, he appeared like a cartoon character having performed an overhead swing with all their might.

Darko? My mouth hung open.

Two figures approached after Darko with their staves out. Shena, through magical trickery, siphoned fireball remains from the burning church into her staff. Remy, her dress outshining fire, holding an urn in one hand and pointing her staff with the other, cast water where stubborn flames refused to extinguish. The two mages cleared a path for Darko. He headed straight for me.

“Can you walk?” Darko asked. The area was safe for now. Most of the black smoke had escaped the building with Darko’s shockwave.

My facial features were frozen. I stared at his blurry figure for a solid fifteen seconds before my brain snapped back to action. “Rakash!” I called.

I stood up, looking around. “Rakash!” I repeated in desperation. If she was dead… If I had killed her too—

A groan sounded from underneath a layer of unidentifiable rubble. Rakash pushed her way free, emerging from the collapsed remains of what used to be a stone statue.

She eyed Darko warily, almost frowning, but appeared mostly unharmed. Thank Shiela. Oh, bless the Goddess, I hadn’t killed another!

“Rakash?” Shena eyed the Gorthorn, wide-eyed. “Rakash? Is that you?”

“Shena?” Rakash faced her. A grin slowly overtook her apprehension. “Odd place for a reunion, my friend. I thank you for teaching me that bubble spell of yours. Just saved my life.”

“You two know each other?” Darko asked.

“Gods, yes,” Shena said. “Are you alone, Rakash? Where is everyone else?”

“That is a question I ask every day,” Rakash said. “They are not here, all I know.”

“Save the reunions for later,” Darko said. “We’ve got problems to avoid. Ra… Rakash? I invite you to come with us.” He turned to me. “And same to you. I’m glad you’re safe, Cill. Can you walk?”

I stood in shock for a moment longer. “Yes,” I said.

Darko nodded, though took hold of my hand. We calmly walked towards the front doors, past the scorched benches. The remains of my madness. Amongst the mess, a collapsed clump of plate armor lay unmoving, undoubtedly dead.

“Moons,” Remy said. “A Black Plate. Burned just like that. They’re supposed to be resistant to flames.”

I stepped out of the building. The previously musty city air tasted like heaven itself. A cheering crowd sizing hundreds waited outside, chanting praises for the Wyvern Slayer. I stared in awe from the top of the stairs. When had I last seen civilization? Five years ago? Hell, it was still the same night.

The most eager of the citizens tried rushing inside the church. First responders and good samaritans. There were dozens, all looking determined to save whoever was still inside.

“Stop,” Darko told them. “It’s far too dangerous. And not only because of the fire. If you wish to be useful, fetch adventurers. Fighting royals.”

“What of the wounded?” the closest man asked.

“The church was hijacked by cultists,” Darko said. “Call for professionals! It is far too dangerous for ordinary men.”

With some hesitation, the group nodded. They began shouting sense into the situation, ordering adventurers forward, telling the unorganized crowd to make space.

“Cill, I won’t apologize just yet,” Darko said with an awfully serious look. “And I will leave the interrogations for later. For now, I have but one question. Is the wielder of this fire still alive?”

I paused for a moment. “Yes,” I whispered. “The wielder… It’s me.”

Darko’s eyebrows lifted. “No shot. Don’t lie to me.”

“The no-breed speaks no lies,” Rakash said. “I cannot believe it, but his fire burned the Warden.”

Darko paused. “Bless the Moons, are you for real?”

“It’s possible,” Remy said. “A traumatic event is known to be a cause of a surge of uncontrolled rogue magic. Still, I’ve never seen something of this scale.”

“I shot them. The…” I was afraid of speaking the word. What if I accidentally cast one again? “I did this.”

Darko looked concerned, then turned to Shena and Rakash. “We are leaving. The royals will come asking questions soon.”

“Our ride leaves at sunrise,” Shena said.

“Wake the driver,” Darko said. “We’ll pay a month’s wage if we have to. That should get some urgency in his limbs. Cill, unfortunately, you’re coming with us. Is there anything you need to grab from Volés? Any belongings?”

“Nothing,” I said, still in disbelief.

Darko nodded. “As of right now, you two will be treated as members of my party. Let’s get the hell out of this city. Afterward, we have a whole lot to discuss.”