Nords was in his house, a rough map of the village laid out on his table. A cup of crude alcohol lay beside it, on the table, untouched. He glanced at it briefly and considered downing the whole thing. It took all of his mental strength not to. He needed to be thinking clearly for this.

Returning his attention back to the map he pinched the bridge of his nose. They’d been searching for almost twenty minutes by now, but whatever creature it was that had decided to invade the village, it was gone.

Either it had escaped, or was hiding somewhere they couldn’t find it. There’d been more than a few whispers of the supernatural from his men. Their moral was taking a hit too, as they saw danger in every shadow.

Right now, he was regretting sending out his men on that expedition. The more rational men of his guild were off leading that expedition. Even just the bolstering of their number would have been much appreciated.

There was limited space to hide in the small village, but with over half his men gone, he just didn’t have the numbers to perform a proper sweep. The spirit/creature, whatever it was, was probably long gone by now.

There were eight players in this village, including himself. One was dead, crushed by the gate, another wounded, his leg impaled. With himself organising the whole thing that left three men searching, five once he pulled the two men off the gate.

His eyes wandered back over to the alcohol. He was wondering whether to call of the whole search when he heard the whoosh of flames from outside. He charged out his door to see the last remnants of a fireball dissipate into the night sky. Directly below it stood a figure, cloaked in blood and shadows.

***

Azrael watched the last of the flames fade against the night sky.

The evening air was chilly against his skin, as if trying to cool his anger. He let it sink in, cooling the emotions that were roiling around him, leaving behind a cool sort of calm rage.

Around him the cries of players rung out, as they converged onto the main street. From within one of the houses their commander appeared, pointing and yelling commands. Azrael blocked it out, not hearing a word. Now was not the time to be distracted.

Pointing his finger at the gathering men he called upon his mana. It slowly coalesced at his fingertip, shimmering silver in the moonlight. With a single thought he ignited it, flames springing into existence and snapping hungrily in the night air, eager to be unleashed.

For a brief moment the flames danced there, before the fireball flew straight towards the men. It exploded upon impact, sending two to the ground as they tried to douse the flames on their clothes. The battle had begun.

The remaining men had jumped to the side as the fire ball flew forwards, avoiding it. They now began to charge. Azrael just stood calmly, observing.

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Too slow. The spell was too slow. It still took him a handful of seconds. Seconds too long. Seconds wasted. He’d already ascertained how fatal that could be in his last fight.

He readjusted his aim, sending another ball of fire towards their commander. The flames splashed against the outer walls of the house, as the man dove out of the way and onto the dusty street. He rose unharmed.

The house was not so lucky, as the fire latched onto the dry wooden wall.

By now the charging men had nearly reached him, and Azrael began moving, racing through the backstreets of the village. Despite everything he managed to try and keep his emotions in check, calming his mind.

It was odd though. Everything seemed to be moving slower than he thought it should. Flames moved in slow motion, while the men seemed to be moving through molasses.

It gave him time. Each move was calculated and measured, in absolute calm. It was as if he was simply watching from behind a screen, executing commands. He was still lost in anger, but logic took over emotion. Here, he was in control, just… detached.

Congratulations!

Through staying rational during an intense situation you have gained the skill [Calm Mind].

[Calm Mind]

While emotions rage, the mind is calm.

You are more likely to keep a calm mind in intense situations.

He ignored the notification as he ran through the village.

As he moved, he threw off fire balls to the left and right, targeting all the empty houses. One fire ball. Too slow. A second fire ball. Too slow.

He tried to force his mana out, sacrificing fine control for brute force. As he did so, he felt his imaginary threads of mana starting to unravel, as he forced them through his body.

He grimaced as he noticed wisps of his mana escaping his grasp. These simply drifting off and ignited in the air around him.

He fired again. Still too slow.

Behind him men watched the demonic intruder set blaze to their village. Each wave of its hands condemning another house to the flames. The air around the figure shimmered with heat like a ghostly veil separating it from the mortal world and around it flames spontaneously popped in and out of existence. The burning buildings only added to the hellish scene.

Azrael tried reining in the mana before it escaped, spinning it together tightly, reining it in with [Mana Control] and in general just trying to eke out every advantage he could get.

And slowly his fireballs changed.

While casting them seven seconds turned to six, while six became five. His bullets also became smaller, tighter, more compact. The flames were no longer burning a hellish red, instead becoming golden orange, like miniature suns.

Slipping through another alley Azrael noticed one of the men behind him suddenly gaining ground.

Instinctively, he charged another fire ball, compressing it and shaping it like a bullet. In his hurry he forgot to ignite it and it shot forward unlit. All this happened in less than a second.

The bullet pierced a man through his eye and he fell down screaming.

Messages popped up, but he only had time to glance at one of them before he was forced to dodge a knife thrown at his head.

Congratulations!

Through your dedication to magical combat, you have gained the skill [Mana Bullet].

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