I’m already on my way back, barely finished with my transformation when another [Hezurra] bursts through the ground and coming at us with its claws extended. Gerim swipes the claw away and then goes to rip off the head with his fat hands. He tears it off with unnatural ease and bounds to the third [Bichu] tormenting Hargoil and the twins, where I’m headed.

I groan as I have to stop myself from heading to pluck out the Crimson Crystal in the deceased [Hezurra]. The fight is getting further away from me; if I linger any longer I’ll be left behind and fresh for the rest of the horde hot on our tails.

Gerim had taken out the first round with a wave of his hand and a blue glow to his eyes, but they keep coming. Exhausted from his repetitive use of magic, the Blood Orange Demon still manages to remain the only one unscathed by our attackers.

I’ve already lost half my health since coming here. I groan, knowing the significant cost of injuries on my Essence reward.

And that’s not the worst part. Because of the hounding rush of attackers, the twins failed to retrieve their buried pile of Crystals and now have Hargoil seething. Although he seethes with frustration, he takes it out on the Demons in our way. I can relate to the sense of loss he radiates.

I should have stolen some after all.

The disappointment and frustration don’t end there either. Since Gerim rained down freezing quills on the first round of attackers, he’s continued to swoop in and save our collective hides each time. In a point of life and death like this, a thought like this should be the furthest thing from my mind. I should be grateful to possibly get away with my life, and yet...

As an [Inurri] breaks out at me, piercing at my side with its stinger, I’m forced to make a desperate jump to the side, where I come face to face with an odd [Swak]. It’s long and lanky, unlike the usual fat ones I come across. It swipes at my head, slashing my face with its acid-dripping claws, and I fall on my ass, tumbling backward through the sand.

Retaliation is the furthest thing from my mind as the [Inurri] charges at me. I halt the transformation, taking the unfinished product with its flaws, and raise my bony arms toward the Demon.

And for the first time I experience the joy of long-range attacks as my palm and forearm release a flurry of barbed bone spikes. The spikes tear into flesh, blood spraying as it bursts open a sack. The [Inurri] lets out a strained shriek before falling over dead. I let loose more spikes, which tear into other Demons. With each strike I can feel the drain on my Essence.

As a consequence of my rushed transformation, attacks like these hurt. I curse yet again as I’m forced to abandon the gleaming Crystals of the fallen. Rushing to keep up with Gerim and the others, I make a point of flooding my limbs with Essence, daring the Demons to be faster.

The [Hezurras] aren’t done with me though, as one jumps up on my back to claw at me while the others tear at my legs, trying to pull me to the ground. With a quick roll to one side, I manage to toss it off. A second is close behind me when a sudden gush of fire comes from my left and incinerates it to ash in its track.

Gerim is already in the air leaping into the fray to protect me. Again.

I swallow the growl and replace it with a cheer of appreciation. “Thanks!” I call out as the Demons around me scatter.

His eyes stop glowing after a few more blazing bolts of fire and he returns to my side as I run. “Hurry,” he urges, taking off ahead of me.

It’s a vain struggle from here on out, but soon I catch a whiff of the city. Even with my limited senses, it’s hard to miss the radiating power oozing from Calridian’s domain, the Broken City. I’m burning through Essence at this point, because there are still Demons chasing after us.

Huffing and puffing with each tear my leg muscles go through, I imagine that the Demons chasing us now aren’t the same as over an hour ago. I’ve seen them do as Demons do, get distracted with better, quicker rewards and attack the weakest in the chasing horde. Many of them should have eaten and killed the others or run off by now.

It’s a mundane thought, but the only one that can appease my frustration as my strength wanes.

The drain irritates and bristles me so much I nearly stop to consume all the jingling Crystals in my cloak’s pockets.

This had better be worth it. I curse Calridian, Gerim, and everyone I’ve ever seen for this disaster. A whole day wasted fighting Demons and running for my life because Calridian wants to do [Spells]? What kind of mad bastard makes up a spell like this in the first place?

With each beat of my heart, my eyes fall back on the stat sheet, staring at the new strength I’ve gained.

Trait [Quick Mold]- Lvl.1 Attained!

It’s a meager compensation, one I’d even scoff at if I were patient enough not to scream first. But reprieve and hopefully greater rewards will reveal themselves. The city peers over the horizon, a mere three dunes away. I can hear the distant sounds of its residents already.

The Demons at our backs immediately begin to whittle down in their numbers, scattering off to the sides to escape chaos or dying by the dozen as they attack one another. My mind races and all thoughts of anger are lost as I look back with the hope that I’d be able to finish this today.

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Calridian is an asshole who deserves worse than death for this. But he’s also the ward who’s keeping me safe in the last lap to his haven. I can only imagine what kind of power he wields to disperse a horde of three dozen Crimson Demons without ever showing his face.

By the last dune, we’ve escaped the horde at last and peter down to a slow, exhaustive jog toward the Broken City.

I’m panting when I reach Gerim. Together with the others, we march right into the city where many Demons stop to mutter and cheer—or grunt and heave for those without telepathy.

By the warm reception, I can tell that word of our mission has traveled. The crowd of insects and arachnid Demons make way for us. It’s a straight, undisturbed walk to Calridian’s lair.

“Wait here,” Gerim orders before heaving the Blood Orange Crystal of the Dawern and the ring containing its parts into the lair. At his entrance the long, massive doors leading to it close shut. Something they’ve never done as far as I know.

Spells... special parts... how does any of this relate to mana?

It’s frustrating not knowing how to cast [Spells]. Or how to get them in the first place. Am I missing something? Do I need a special part from another Demon to cast them? How do I even get started mastering my grip on mana?

Hurt and reduced to the weakest I’ve felt, I can only wait and anticipate Gerim’s return. Hopefully Calridian gives me a fair share of Essence.

I’m only granted a moment of reprieve before a shadow clouds the little patch of light I’m sitting under. Eyes opening, I find Hargoil, not as beaten as I am but beaten nonetheless. For once the twins are not with him, off in their own little corner, likely silent as ever. I detect waves of confidence rolling off of Hargoil; I can already expect to get the shorter end of whatever deal he’s about to propose.

“Hey there,” he greets me with more cheer than I’ve ever seen him with. I’m in trouble for sure. He’s smiling too hard and too wide to hide anything, especially when he leans back on one shoulder like that.

I raise an eyebrow to question the reason for his change, but all it earns me is a smirk and a chuckle. “So, I have a proposition for you.”

Propositions aren’t exactly the kind of thing you accept out of kindness or goodwill. Especially when it comes to dealing with someone who’s trying to take something from you. My muscles tense, ready to spring at any moment, and my mouth opens, ready to speak. But what comes out aren’t the words I thought to use first.

“I’m listening.”

Hargoil grins wide. It makes him look like a child with a present. That smile fades a moment later as he recites, “You pay me in Essence for every new method I teach, and you fight on my order, not Gerim’s.”

I can’t hold it back anymore. I scoff, chuckle, burst out laughing. The hilarity of this moment supersedes the threat of Hargoil’s growing wrath.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m not that dumb is all. Did you think Humans are? I know that’s all you see me as, a Human with a Crystal that ought to be yours.”

He makes a good attempt at rolling his beetle eyes at me and growls, “What’s your other option, hmm? Gerim? Do you think Gerim wants to see anyone stronger than him? He’s a coward. He won’t teach you everything.”

It’s a weak argument for further enslavement under himself, but it’s an argument nonetheless. He’s right—Gerim is an unfortunate coward. Unlike the other captains, he’s the least proactive with raids on the outside. He’s why I’ve spent a year idle and playing with mana. Around the city—in the few places I dare to stand in for long periods—they identify me as the right-hand’s minion. The right hand being Gerim, as he’s the one Demon to closely serve Calridian and the oldest as well.

If he’s so close to Calridian and so old too... why is he weaker than other captains? There’s about a handful of Demons without an icon over their heads. Gerim isn’t one of them.

Rumors, of course, but there’s a grain of truth to each of them, isn’t there?

The thought leads me to consider, “What about you?”

Hargoil grunts at the question and I clarify, “What’s keeping you from getting stronger? Why aren’t you there yet if you know it all?”

His impression turns foul. He begins to growl when the massive doors swing open and Gerim comes charging out. I watch him smack Hargoil out of the way before grasping my arm.

“Hey, wha-!”

Gerim shakes his head and snarls, “We need to go.”

The words sound more like commands now than anything else, He tosses a pouch of what ought to be Crystals to Hargoil and drags me through the doors. Once more they shut, and I take a tumble when Gerim lets go of me.

Calridian’s lair is as vast and complex as it was the last time I was here but less populated.

Cautious and a tad apprehensive, I stay in Gerim’s shadow while he strides ahead without a hint of fear or unease. We reach a staircase that descends into a deeper pit of the lair beneath us.

Calridian is tall... taller than I last saw: he’s constantly growing. His long coil of a centipede backside meshes with the worm torso, leading up to a lizard head.

He’s changed...

He’d never had a lizard head... at least not since I saw him. He’s morphing his body somehow.

The dirt-brown lizard head turns down on us as Calridian glares at me through narrowed eyelids. His gaze roves around the room as he acknowledges our presence, “Nil. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, Master,” I respond out of obligation more than anything.

Gerim steps forward and bows respectfully before turning to leave without another word. I’m left alone with the master of the city, the biggest threat in this desert as far as I’ve seen.

His large body carries him across the room to the large table of [Soul Crystals]. “Gerim mentioned you’ve taken an interest in practicing magic.” He thrills, a hint of excitement under all that monotone.

A spark of curiosity flares within me. “I have, Master,” I confirm.

“I am impressed,” Calridian replies. There’s a tone of approval like I’ve done something worthwhile. Maybe this will end soon and he won’t want to kill me or use me anymore?

“You have grown since we last saw one another. Faster than I thought you’d be capable of. I’d attribute that to Gerim being cautious and light-footed with risk, but you survived the Dawern... albeit quite injured. Your magic has grown stronger as well,” the Demon observes,.“Tell me more about this?” He raises an eyebrow in question to my answer, a gesture of curiosity.

I draw a blank here. What am I supposed to tell him about? Dread overwhelms me as I wonder whether I’ve oversold myself to him. The panic is short-lived as keeping him waiting is more likely to get me squashed than answering.

“I’ve only begun to sense it. It feels cold and hot... and it’s boiling and frozen and many other things at the same time,” I grunt, frustrated with my lack of results. “I can’t get a grip on it.”

Calridian doesn’t say anything; instead, he levitates a gleaming Blood Orange Crystal from the pile. “This is your worth from your contributions on the mission. It should help... enlighten you.” He passes it over and drops the thrumming Crystal in my hand.

[Blood Orange Soul Crystal]- Lvl.1(50esq)

[Absorb] [Destroy]