The man’s thin blade jabbed forward, Darian backing away from the lunge. But he was unnaturally fast, closing the distance between them in an instant. Darian fainted a slash, but the man didn’t bite on it. Instead, he took a half step back and thrusted, the tip of his needle like sword tearing right through Darian’s chainmail and into his bad shoulder.

He grinned as he pulled the blade free. “Usually, I like to play with my food.” He flicked his dagger out, knocking an arrow from the air. “But sometimes things must be devoured quickly.”

Darian used [Dash Strike] the sudden burst of speed catching his target off guard. He brought his sword down from overhead, the man’s dagger coming up to block it. But the blow was too strong, and Darian’s sword pushed past the pitiful defense.

***

Oliver gritted his teeth. He’d underestimated the red eyed, white-haired freak. But I never make the same mistake twice. He activated his unique skill [Phase] just as the sword reached his chest. The blade passed through him, the tip sparking against the road as Oliver jumped away.

The red-eyed man looked at him, puzzled. Oliver took a moment, as he often did, to appreciate the confusion. But he could only use the skill one more time. But he doesn’t know that. Gold light enveloped Oliver as Yulia applied another buffing spell. He wanted his wrist healed, but it would be better to save her healing for when he needed it.

Another arrow whistled through the air, coming from the forest just outside the south gate. Oliver ducked it, but he couldn’t focus on the archer and the swordsman at the same time.

“Yulia, find and kill that bowman,” Oliver commanded.

***

Darian placed his palm on the ground, six zombies appearing from the shadows. I have to stop them. With the goblins and Gorm occupied with the undead, the only thing standing between his enemies and Fria was himself.

He commanded his new summons to attack the Cleric. But she was surprisingly fast despite the thick steel armor and heavy mace she carried. The zombies shuffled toward her, but then she turned to face them, and Darian leapt back. The sky once again split, a beam of bright light shining down from above.

The holy flame swirled around Darian’s zombies, half the group being reduced to ash instantly. Then the dual wielder came forward, his thin blade jabbing a zombie in the face three times, killing it.

Darian used [Swarm], targeting the shadows cast by the holy fire. The oily bat shadows rose and bit at the swordsman, Darian able to smell the blood trickling from slight cuts on his body. But then the Cleric raised an arm, a blue sphere appearing around Darian’s target, shielding him from the bats.

“My thanks,” he said, dashing forward.

Darian twisted to the side, giving Fria an angle to shoot from. Her first shot was electrified, but the Cleric put herself between it and Fria’s target. The arrow struck her right in the chest, electricity sparking and flashing off her steel armor. Then the swordsman was on Darian, and he had to watch helplessly as the Cleric marched past him and toward Fria.

Thinking of his fight with Sven, Darian took a back step, then launched a knee into his opponent’s groin. But he saw the dirty strike coming, moving away just before it landed. Off balance, Darian blocked the next thrust but fell backwards, his shoulders crunching into the muddy ground.

He rolled, but something washed over him, his body feeling like he was swimming through syrup. He slowed me with a skill. His palm raised, a flaming spear flying out to keep his opponent at bay. And reaching out, Darian instructed his two closest zombies to assist him. He could pull the other zombies back, but by the looks of things, the goblins and Gorm needed their help.

Darian’s target rolled under the spear, his dagger flying from his hand as he spun. Darian ducked low, the knife just missing him. Then he watched as an oily black sphere formed, the man drawing a dagger from within.

“You’re a companion,” Darian announced.

The man cocked his head to the side. “Astute observation.” He pointed his thin blade at Darian. “That makes you either a companion yourself, or maybe an aspirant?”

Aspirant? Darian didn’t have time to question it, as the man shot forward, thin blade thrusting in a steel blur.

“Victoria killed the last aspirant that came for her,” he said, grinning as his knife flashed out, cutting a thin line down Darian’s arm. “I wonder how she will reward me for killing one myself?”

Darian kicked, his boot thudding into the man’s stomach. Now with space between them, Darian shot a shard of ice and ran behind the attack with his sword ready to thrust.

But what if the attack goes through him? Darian still didn’t know how the man had made Darian’s sword pass through him, but if he did it once, could he do it again? He slowed his pace, turning the attack into a diagonal cut. If he went for a big attack and it passed through him, Darian would be out of position. And this was a battle where he couldn’t afford to do that.

Their blades met, Darian proving to be the stronger man. He pushed against the dagger, throwing his opponent’s arm wide. But his thin blade came around in a blur, the edge cutting across Darian’s cheek. He stepped back, ice and then flame leaping from his palm. The spells were dodged, but Darian didn’t relent. His opponent was human, and that meant he would eventually tire.

But Darian’s shoulder screamed at him, the muscles bunching and pulling. It was a coin toss if Darian’s opponent would give out before Darian’s shoulder did.

***

Bastard! Oliver backed away, the blows coming faster and faster, their ferocity growing as the slowing skill was wearing off. Then, as Oliver’s dagger and rapier crossed to block an attack, one of the zombies lumbered up, its teeth snapping. Oliver pushed, his strength just enough to force his opponent back. He raised a palm and cast [Minor Slow], the red-eyed man’s body becoming enveloped in amber light. Then he cut across the zombie’s throat with his dagger, its skin scorched and peeling from Yulia’s holy spell.

As it crumbled to dust, Oliver stepped back and knocked another small ball of flame from the air. If he hadn’t already wasted his two daily uses, he could have activated [Knowledge Transfer] on his opponent and overloaded his brain with the memories of Oliver’s entire life. But he never expected someone this strong to show up.

He smiled. At least I’m finally cured of boredom.

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***

The scent of goblin blood was steadily growing. Darian only caught a glimpse of it, but the battle on this side didn’t seem to be going in their favor. He knocked another thrust wide, his opponent beginning to slow, sweat beading on his brow.

He hacked and hacked, throwing in feints to confuse his opponent’s senses. And wherever he could, he tossed in a [Flare] or [Shard], the spells weak but enough to keep his target guessing. Then it happened. A parry was lazy, the man’s body finally showing the effects of his fatigue. Darian knocked the dagger away, then thrust his sword.

His opponent sidestepped, but the edge of the blade cut along his chest, burning right through his leather armor. He dropped his dagger and backed away, but Darian had him cornered. The only thing behind him was the side of a thick stone building and the outer wall of the town.

“Where is your master hiding?” Darian asked.

The man smirked. “She’s no master of mine.” His back pressed to the wall.

“Answer me, and I might let you live.”

“How merciful,” the man said, reaching up and touching his chest, the hand coming away red.

His blood was the most delicious thing Darian had ever smelled. If it weren’t for the battle raging behind him and his belly being full, his fangs would have already torn the man’s throat out.

But the man noticed. He raked his palm across his wound, then flung out his hand, droplets of sweet blood splashing against Darian’s cheek.

With Darian’s senses overwhelmed, the man smiled before he phased into the wall.

“Damnit!” Darian looked up. The wall was tall, but he’d be able to climb it quickly. He was about to start when he heard Fria scream.

***

Oliver ran into the darkness, his chest burning. How he let that man get the better of him, he didn’t know. Should have just hit him with everything from the start. Ah well, I’ll just have to kill him next time. Oliver turned, his wet boots squelching against the old stone road.

Battle still raged in the town, but without him, he figured it would only be a matter of time until the defenders fell. There had been far more goblins in the swamps than he realized. Still, the losses the enemy suffered would keep them from attacking Victoria’s crypt right away.

A woman’s scream split the air, coming from the direction of the forest. Ah, perhaps the archer I sent Yulia to kill? A part of Oliver—an admittedly small one—felt sour about leaving his allies to die. But ah well, they were already dead, weren’t they?”

He started up the road when an enormous wolf sped out of the shadows. Oliver raised his rapier, but the beast ran right past him, off toward the direction of the scream. Then he spotted two people standing beside the road, and his mouth fell open.

“It takes a lot to surprise me,” he said, stalking forward. “What in the hells are you doing here, Harpaleth?”

“It’s Harper now,” she said, standing between Oliver and a short, terrified man.

Oliver smiled at his old comrade-in-arms. “I thought this day would leave a bitter taste in my mouth, but here you are.” He nodded at the bandage on her head. “And gift-wrapped just for me.”

She smiled in return, a black dagger materializing in her hand. “I see that Tarcius’ old genealogy experiment still has a mouth on him.”

His smile faded, memories of the lab pouring into his mind. “And I see you're still the same wench who thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“Well, darling,” she said, taking the stance of a trained assassin. “It’s because I am.”

***

Darian crashed through the forest, searching frantically.

“Fria!” he called to no response. “Fria!”

Then he heard the clang of metal and saw a flash of multicolored light. He sprinted, the sounds of battle drawing further away. Then there came a snarl in the clearing ahead, one followed by the sickening sound of steel meeting flesh.

Darian broke through the trees and into the clearing. The grass was charred here and there, the buzz of magic in the air. Fria stood at the far end, her back pressed to a tree, the Cleric closing in on her. Darian hurled flame at the Cleric, the fire bursting against her back. She stumbled, and Darian saw the crumpled body of Zan on the ground, his head covered in blood.

The Cleric turned, the sky opening with bright light. Darian activated [Dash Strike], moving forward just as the holy flame enveloped where he’d been standing. His sword clanged against the Cleric’s shoulder, her armor blunting the strike. Fria was preparing an arrow, but her arm was torn open, her right foot twisted the wrong way.

Darian growled, the shape of the bloody wolf on the ground filling his body with a sensation he had never truly felt.

Hate.

Adding [Corrosive Touch] to his sword, he pushed down with all the strength he could muster. His shoulder popped, his arm tingling in pain and then numbness. But his sword carved through the Cleric’s armor, the blade splitting all the way down into her chest. Then Fria’s flaming arrow came, the tip bursting bright orange against the Cleric's back.

Darian ripped his blade free and sliced, the Cleric’s head toppling to the ground.

***

The old Oliver might have lost to Harpaleth, but he was stronger now. He danced around her pitiful attacks, his rapier already landing a dozen cuts across her arms and legs. It was a great joy knowing her life lay in the palm of his hand.

Her little friend must have known there was nothing he could do. He stood watching, his hands occasionally fiddling with his satchel. Oh, how I love having an audience.

Oliver kicked, his foot digging into Harpaleth’s ribs.

“You’ve grown soft,” he said, his fist crunching into her cheek, splitting it open.

She spun, then spat, blood on her lips. “It was you, wasn’t it? The one who stole the Soul of Damnation from The Society?”

“What, don’t tell me you work for them now?” Oliver looked her over. “By the gods you do, don’t you? Oh, how you’ve fallen, Harpaleth.” He strengthened his back. “But yes, I did steal it. Come now, you must have suspected me? Who else could pull something like that off?”

“I’d actually expected you’d died in a gutter somewhere." She smiled. "Drowned like the filthy rat you are.”

Oliver frowned. He’d had enough of this woman. But as he prepared to skewer her, she jumped back.

“Now Gustan!”

The man’s palm sparked, his bag catching fire. He tossed it, some of the vials spilling out, glowing in the light.

Alchemist’s fire! Oliver rolled forward, but the bag landed behind him, the contents exploding. Oliver sprang forward, just barely able to keep a grip on his rapier. Then he rolled across the ground, his back and legs on fire. As the pain threatened to overwhelm him, he activated his unique skill [Restore], the flames sputtering out.

Harpaleth appeared above him, her dagger coming down from high up. Oliver raised his rapier, ready to skewer her, but then a dark bolt exploded against her shoulder, sending her flying through the air.

Oliver rose, Hyalm and two of his Death Knight’s coming toward him from the town, dark energy swirling above a Knight’s head.

“The battle is lost,” Hyalm said. “We must retreat.”

Oliver looked around. “Oh, yes. My thoughts exactly.” He spotted Harpaleth on the ground some distance away. She wasn’t moving.

Then he turned as he heard a whimper. The alchemist was on his stomach, his back and legs singed from the flames. Oliver walked up to him, Hyalm and the others close behind.

“I’d love to savor this, but where has the time gone?” He thrust his rapier into the man’s neck, the tip sinking into the earth beneath his throat.

He jerked, then fell onto his face, blood pooling around his head.

“Well then,” Oliver said, the undead a dark silhouette against the flames. “I think we’d best be away from this place.”