Nine days passed after the events that took place during the expedition. I was placed in the infirmary alongside the rest of those injured during the battle with the ice serpent. Every so often, one of the triplets would come to check on my well-being, but they could never stay long enough for my liking. With the knife retrieved, all of House Jones was working overtime trying to figure out what it could do. Since the triplet's main job was to cook, they only knew what they could gather through gossip.

The people who had the knife to begin with were named The Giant Cult. When the snake formed its body, it removed large portions of ice, which led to the discovery of other cult members. They were all abominations. The knife required power plant levels of energy to function, but the kind of energy that was needed wasn't made clear within the gossiping. Even without knowing what power the cultist used, it was a wonder how they could have gotten their hands on such a thing.

On day four out of the nine, I realized I had been working as a maid for half a month. I didn't think my paycheck would have been transferred into my account yet, but I started to think about what I should use it for. As I sorted items in a Christmas list fashion, I wondered what I would do once the year of service was up. It was half a month now, but soon it would be a month and a half, then three months. Even the stab wound on my arm will be a scar that might be an excellent story at pool parties.

I winced at the slightest movement of my shoulder. The pain threw me back to the enclosed dome of dirt and the ice snake. I remembered how scared I was, having nowhere else to run. I didn't know at the time whether or not anyone would save me before the snake would end my life, but I was too determined not to die. Even though it was just a memory, my body began to shake violently. My blood started to slow down in my veins, and my vision started to darken.

Amongst the cold, I felt a warm hand on my good shoulder. My shivering slowed down, and I could breathe at an average pace. Once my eyes opened, I turned to see it was Shirley, whose hand was on me. Her hands were wrinkly like an older woman, starkly contrasting her youthful, albeit tired-looking face. As I rolled over to face her properly, I realized her hands were wrinkled because they had been burnt long ago. What I thought were wrinkles turned out to be warped skin in the pattern of flickering flames. Slight pigmentation differences would have gone unnoticed if one wasn't looking for them.

Shirley's smile grew slightly as she noticed me looking at her scars.

"You have a gap in your shoulder and are bedridden, yet you still have the energy to worry about others," Shirley said in a wispy voice. Her dopey smile was disarming but lacked a sincereness, making it almost creepy.

"I didn't mean to stare," I said, frantically apologizing. Shirley wore a pristine doctor's cloak without a semblance of a maid's attire. After seeing nothing but maids and royalty, she was the only one who looked genuinely normal.

"Stare at them all you want. Let it be a reminder of the cost of learning magic," her voice was stern, but her smile didn't waver.

"Is magic taxing on the body?"

"Depends. Inheritors, the blessed, and some pure breeds can use magic without altering their bodies or mental states in harmful ways. Master Wallace and Lady Elisabeta are human inheritors, meaning they can use powerful magic for the small price of their stamina."

"What does it mean to be an inheritor or blessed?"

"You're a curious one," Shirley grabbed a rolling stool to sit down. "Before I can answer that, I must explain what a bequeather is. I don't know what you believed before coming here, but things like gods exist. These entities can call forth storms, move mountains, and are unmatched by anything on the earths other than themselves. Occasionally, these gods will run into a mortal they fancy and grant them a fraction of their power."

"What do these 'gods' get out of doing that?"

Shirley leaned back with her eyes squinting in thought. "Your guess is as good as mine. I'm not a thinker like Trolly. Once someone receives the power, they are considered blessed. That power can also be transferred through bloodlines; those who receive it are inheritors."

"Like Wallace. So these entities are the ultimate users of magic while everyone else has to depend on them to get magic?"

"It's not the only way, but any other way is very costly. I was greedy. I gained the power to communicate with animals at the cost of permanently smiling. I gained the power to control fire at the cost of burning my hands." Shirley pointed at each of her deformities as she brought them up. "There's more I can say about magic, like how you can obtain it and how one uses it, but answer me this. Do you want to learn magic?"

"Did you use magic when you touched my shoulder?"

Shirley shook her head but stopped and tilted her head. She squinted her eyes again. "My magic doesn't heal, but I guess anything could happen with you."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw you during the fight against the giant. I watched you run to my master with the weapon that sealed our victory. Every major moment after that, I've heard your name come up."

Shirley's voice expressed so much gratitude that something in me bubbled up with joy. A smile stretched across my face outside my control, but I didn't mind. I had received thanks from others for the things I did, but something about hearing it now felt different.

"I didn't mean to make a big deal of myself," I said bashfully. However, as I thought about my actions, my joy started to dim. "I don't know why I did it. Any of it."

Shirley's tired and baggy eyes shifted with concern while her cursed smile remained. "Master Wallace would wonder the same thing when he first arrived here. So much would be put on his plate, but he would press onward. When I noticed that he was about to break, I decided to take him away and have a day where he could relax. Would you like to?"

"Get out of the mansion?" I asked. "Wouldn't you have to ask Wallace first?"

"That, and I want to wait for you to heal some more. So, what do you say?"

Though I had left the mansion before, I would never return to the world I knew. I hadn't visited my friends or parents because I was preoccupied with life-threatening events. I took a deep breath as if the air was more refreshing than the moment before.

"I would love to go. And thank you."

Eight days had passed since the retrieval of the knife that was used by the giant cult. "Giant cult." The name sounded ridiculous in Wallace's mind, but the mysterious faction had to be called something.

The young master of House Jones had never been as busy his whole time at the estate as he had been in the past week. Document reading, plan approvals, and daily upkeep of the estate were piled on his work desk like a wall. Wallace was surprised when he ended the second day needing to refill on ink and wax. Thankfully, Tina and Elis took charge where they could. Many of the servants Elis brought with her were also massively helpful.

On the fourth day, Shirley asked Wallace through text if she could take Eve out on the town once the new hire was healed. Wallace approved it, of course. Eve deserved at least one day to go out and do what she wanted. That said, he didn't think Shirley would be the one asking. Speaking of Eve, the spies returned that day with disappointing news.

According to them, Eve's family was not known for anything. Those who become inheritors of power often use that power to make something of themselves. It didn't have to be on the same level as Clifford Jones, but they couldn't stay under the radar.

This was assuming Eve or any of her immediate family had any powers. It wasn't yet a fact that the knife only reacted to inheritors or blessed, but if Eve was human, what other explanation could there be?

At some point, Wallace had a chance to escape the busyness of everything happening. He used his free time to travel to the Eye of Truth early on the fifth day. The necklace Eve received from the goblins stood out to Wallace because the goblins didn't give out trinkets. The silver, eight-pointed star necklace looked pristine and polished as if it was freshly bought. The goblins from the Eye of Truth were collectors of trinkets and shiny things, just as many goblins were prone to be.

Wallace figured out which goblin gave Eve the necklace and questioned him about why it was given and what the necklace was.

"It seemed right to give it to her," said the goblin.

"Pardon?" asked Wallace. He wasn't expecting a vague answer from one of these goblins. They didn't know everything, but he hoped for a specific answer or an "I don't know." Wallace added, "So, was nothing special about the necklace?"

"I never said that. It was found on a battlefield in one of the French Polynesia from your world."

"A… battlefield?"

"Complete with scorched earth, sleeping volcanoes, and impressions of bodies on the ground, but no bodies."

Wallace's mouth was agape. He had so many questions about the few things the goblin told him, but he had to focus on learning about the necklace. "Why would you give something like that to a simple human?"

"The one you call Eve is far from simple. She went in and out of the Eye of Truth with no issue while taking you out. I don't know why I gave her the necklace specifically, but I felt I had to give her something."

"Goblins don't give things."

Unfortunately, that was all Wallace was able to gather from the goblins. The nature of the battlefield was a mystery for them as it was one of many things they weren't allowed to know. The Eye of Truth had its own will, so if it wanted to keep something from anyone, it would, even from the goblins.

At least now, Wallace had a location for his next step in uncovering the mystery of Eve. However, French Polynesia was too far to send any of his maids. He needed all the help within his home territory. While remote research would be a good start, when it came to the oddities of his world, having boots on the ground was always better since ordinary people would always miss something important.

But what if it was worth the investment? Even if Wallace found the Giant Cult, they had more resources than a random collection of heretics. Wallace had to prepare himself to fight a competent enemy mentally and was low on external allies. Eve, if she was more than an average human, could be the one to tip the scales in his favor.

On day eight, Wallace decided to put his foot down and confirm with Elisabeta that he would end the marriage. Given the circumstances, Elis was right in pushing him, but he had an additional motive. It was a long shot, but if Wallace could request the wedding at French Polynesia, he could have some of his maids look into the battlefield the goblin talked about while the event was happening. If anything were to go wrong, he would be able to assist. He would have to review the details with someone, but it seemed like a good plan.

On day nine, Eve left the estate early with Shirley. They took the gray Ford Focus, one of the many cars of the mansion, with their first stop being Eve's parent's house. As for Wallace, he began preparations for his leave to the House of Cinders to have a formal chat with Elis' extended family. Tina and a few other maids were helping him pack.

"It's hard to believe you are finally getting married," Tina said to Wallace with awe. Her tone quickly turned sharp as she pointed at the master of the house. "It's about time, too. If you had waited longer, I would have called the House of Cinders to get the ball rolling."

"Always the instigator," replied Wallace. "I'm sorry it took lives in danger to get me to do it."

Wallace's sorrowful look softened Tina's voice. "Don't beat yourself up over something you couldn't predict."

"I'm not."

The other maids stopped what they were doing to listen to the conversation but could not look at their master.

Taking the time to think of what to say, Tina responded, "Do you remember what you felt when you first got here?" When Wallace didn't answer, Tina continued. "You were so confused about everything." She giggled as she thought back to the scared boy she met all those years ago. "It was like you didn't know which way was up or down. You had so many questions, and I was afraid Trolly would answer all of them. She's good at explaining things but overlooks the emotional weight her words can carry. Despite that, you persevered. When you had to make your case about being Master Jones' successor to the Dusk Council, you persisted. And all the while, we've stood by you."

Wallace smiled. "Yes, you did. Thank you for that."

Wallace opened his arms to hug Tina, but just as he was about to embrace her, he was shocked to find he was grasping at the air. Before Tina disappeared from his sight, Wallace felt something that made his hand tingle. He recognized it as the invisible brand Trolly put on him so she could teleport him to her current location. At least he knew he wasn't in danger.

Looking around, he discovered that he had been summoned to Trolly's lab, but no one other than the necromancer was inside. The doors were closed, and the windows were blinded. Wallace might have been safe, but knowing Trolly led him to the conclusion that she would give him terrible news.

"No time to explain, master," Trolly said in a stressful tone, giving Wallace little time to ask why his abrupt summoning. "The knife is missing!"

Wallace's blood went cold. Although he heard Trolly clearly, the apparent question slipped out of his mouth regardless. "What did you say?"

"It happened last night. I checked the security cameras, but the damned thief made sure to leave no part of their body exposed, including the eyes."

"Do you know where they went or could have gone?"

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"That's what upsets me the most. They never left the estate."

Each building that passed us was a nostalgic memory. The town was an ordinary place with small buildings and nearly empty streets. Because it was early in the day, traffic was light, as only a few cars were on the road to get to work or parents were driving their kids to school. This was once my everyday life. Now, I was only able to come here on my off time.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Shirley while keeping her eyes on the road.

"I'm just glad I get to see my parents again," I responded.

"You could have seen them at any time."

"Lila didn't give me many chances."

"I'm guessing she didn't give you a chance to complain to HR."

"We have an HR department?"

"My point is feel free to ask for something. You more than earned that much."

"It's hard to believe that."

"Either way, you deserved a good long rest."

Resting was easier said than done, considering what I knew about the giants and other worlds. There was a brief moment of silence before Shirley spoke up again.

"You never did answer my question regarding whether or not you wanted to learn magic."

I thought back to the conversation, trying to remember everything that stood out regarding what Shirley said. Learning magic under normal circumstances was costly. I confirmed with Shirley that there was a strain to the process that required a change to the mind and body so that a person didn't combust from the power. One could gain different kinds of magic, but a cost is paid each time.

Inheritors, blessed, and natural-born magic users were the exception. They each had their own magics that they could train in and were able to learn new magic with little cost. Of course, there were still limits, but knowing what those limits were didn't help me better answer the question.

Although Shirley implied that there was something special about me, I thought about the question, assuming I was still an average human. If I planned to stay at House Jones for the rest of my contract, having any supernatural way to defend myself was imperative, even without the giant attacks. However, was I willing to pay any price for magic?

The cost could be anything: the loss of limb function and my speaking ability. Shirley even implied that one could be turned into a dragon: a cursed humanoid that became an elemental spitting giant lizard out of "greed."

When Shirley explained what a dragon was in the context of this world, I asked her, "Were you on the verge of becoming a dragon?"

Her eyes were focused on the road so that I couldn't gauge her feelings. "Before working for Master Clifford," she explained, "I lived with my uncle, who taught me everything I know about magic and how things work. To put it simply, he became a dragon in pursuit of high social status. He believed he could handle all that power he was gathering."

"... I'm torn. I need a way to defend myself, but I'm not so blind to my desires. Ever since I graduated college, I started to become bitter thinking I was denied what I thought was promised to me," I paused, taking a moment to look deep into my soul while asking myself a tricky question. "I'm still bitter."

"And you think that will make you want more than you can handle?"

"...I don't know."

When we finally got to my house, Shirley remained in the car. She said that she would let me and my parents talk in private and should call her when I was ready to leave. I insisted she come with me, but she didn't budge.

I thanked Shirley for taking me and went to the house's door. The first one to open the door was my mother. She was ecstatic to see me, throwing her arms open to hug me. She squeezed me tightly, and I did my best to return the favor. She spoke her greetings in Korean only to switch back to English. Over the years, her accent sounded more like an American, but a hint of Korean would slip through.

"Come in! Come in," she said enthusiastically. "Tell me all about what you've done working for Mr. Kim."

"Mom, I've sent you messages," I said, a little embarrassed knowing Shirley could still see us from the car. I was holding back a yelp of pain through gritted teeth when my mom hugged me, but she must have seen the pain on my face.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said apologetically.

"It's fine. I just got an injury on my shoulder."

As my mom let me inside the house, she asked, "What have you done for Mr. Kim that caused you to hurt your shoulder?"

In the messages I sent my parents, I only told them the mundane stuff, like how I befriended the O'Conner Sisters. If I had mentioned my shoulder injury, it would have led to questions I couldn't properly answer, and I hate lying to my parents.

I explained that I had pulled a muscle while cutting the grass. The lie would have been convincing enough if my short-sleeve shirt had concealed my scar.

When I walked inside the house, I could smell green tea brewed from the kitchen. My mom grabbed the tea set and placed it on the living room table. I helped my mom grab other snacks from the cupboard before we sat down and began to talk.

My mom did most of the talking, updating me about her social group, how work was going, and joking about how much cleaner and quieter the house had been since I left. I was grateful. The less I had to talk, the better. Of course, the conversation eventually circled back to me and Wallace's working situation.

"I still can't believe that such a young man would employ so many women," my mother said. "He must be a pervert or something." As embarrassing as it was to hear my mother say such a thing about my employer, I forgot how strange it was that House Jones only had women workers.

"Actually, his grandfather hired most of the staff."

"And Mr. Kim just continued with that hiring practice?"

I never asked if Wallace hired anyone other than me before the first handful of deaths by the giant's hand. Didn't seem like it. There were already so many working on the estate at any given time, and it was a wonder why he would've needed more. However, the maid job in House Jones doesn't end with cleaning and supporting the house's master. They were also warriors and spies.

"I don't think so," I answered. "When I got there, I understood he hesitated to hire more people."

"What do you think of him?"

"He's a good man, but I think he struggles with all he has to do to keep his family business from sinking."

"Sounds like his business is struggling. Do you think you need to find another job?"

"My contract with House Jones will clear my student debt if I work there for at least a year. Leaving now would be to give up all of my benefits."

Without saying a word or hesitating, my mother got off her seat and sat beside me on the couch. She purposely sat on the opposite side of my injured shoulder and invited me to lean on her. When I did, the stress I didn't know I was feeling started to lift from me.

With a serious face, my mom said, "I may not agree with everything you do, but you're an adult now. Your father and I raised you well, and you will make good decisions. Just remember that we are here for you when you need help. Remember to pray if you find yourself with no one else around."

"Yeah. I guess--"

Suddenly, I smelled smoke in the air. I looked up at my mom, and the wrinkling of her nose told me she could smell it, too, and she was just as surprised as I was. The fire alarm startled us, and we began to run throughout the house to find where the fire was. To our surprise, the front door was engulfed in flames, and even more shocking, I stood in front of the burning door like a small fox made of fire.

I knew what this creature was. This was a conjuration created by Shirley. But why was she burning my house?

There was a loud explosion followed by the mansion shaking violently. Everything from containers and beakers that weren't bolted down fell off tables and cupboards. Wallace braced himself while hugging Trolly to keep her from falling. Once the shaking stopped, Wallace and Trolly ran outside to understand better what was happening.

Had another giant arrived to attack the mansion?

By the time the pair made it outside, every maid on duty was standing in the backyard while staring at a hole that went deep underground. Wallace pushed through the crowd while scanning the area for any injured people. To his dismay, he counted five maids and two of Eli's men being nursed and bandaged.

Wallace reverted his attention to the hole. It was surrounded by broken dirt and rock, some of which had landed at the pond's edge. The dock was broken, and Wallace wondered if any maids stationed in the pound were hurt. Based on the evidence, the hole was formed from the bottom up, which meant whatever this came from underground. But what could have done such a thing?

If the attacker came from one of the other worlds, they would have to use the portal from the pond or a different one on Earth. The latter option was the only one that made sense, but wouldn't he have known about it before it attacked his home?

Eventually, humanoid figures started to climb out of the hole. They wore basic leather armor on top of primarily modern Earth casual wear. The humanoids were a mixture of male and female humanoids, ranging from half-breeds to abominations and everything in between. For a moment, Wallace believed he was looking at familiar faces and tried to dismiss the thought.

Then, Wallace saw Lila Ax standing tall in front of the company.

As Wallace's vision was dyed blood red, he realized that not all but many of the women on the opposing side were once his maids. Every misfortune that fell on his house started to make sense, and Wallace screamed a disgustingly wrathful roar. The rank smell of burning copper filled his mouth and nose while crackling static filled his ears as he readied to shoot a beam of light at the betrayers.

Perhaps he was too hasty. If anyone tried to stop him, should he have listened to them first? Wallace admitted that he was lumping Lila's defaming of his estate with the giant attacks without any proof of a connection. However, it was hard to believe the two things could be separated. Even if he was wrong about Lila's intentions, her actions deserved to be punished.

Wallace eventually stopped his attack and allowed the dust to settle. To his surprise, a wedge of rock that looked to be lifted from the ground blocked the lightning beam. Some power forced it back into the ground, revealing a man wearing sunglasses standing before Lila.

The man looked around the same age as Wallace but was emaciated. He wasn't wearing the leather armor that the others were wearing, and his clothes, despite being covered in dirt, looked to be freshly bought. Despite his skeletal form, the man moved unnaturally fluently like a reanimated corpse.

Tina and Eli stood beside Wallace, ready to fight. Tina passed Wallace the bomber jacket with the crow design she must have held this whole time.

"Wally," Elisabeta whispered, "That man looks like you."

Wallace didn't reply. He couldn't see the resemblance but was willing to take Eli's word over his opinion.

Instead of entertaining the thought, Wallace yelled at Lila. "Lila! What is the meaning of this?"

"Didn't take you for a man that shot first and asked later," said Lila. She walked around the emaciated man and stood beside him. "I liken it to all the stress you've been feeling."

"How dare you talk to your master that way," Eli defended.

"'Former' master, to be clear. As you can see, I have declared war on House Jones."

"But why?" Wallace demanded, repeating the original question. "Don't tell me you're working for the Giant Cult."

"Maybe you should have led with that rather than attacking me."

Lila's smug smile prompted Wallace to charge another lightning attack. In response, the emaciated man slid one foot forward and eagerly smiled. However, Lila stopped him by raising a hand to his chest.

"Not yet, Rory," Lila said gently. She continued to speak to Wallace in a smug tone. "I guess I should explain. What you lovingly call the 'Giant Cult' is best called the Joten Revival Organization. My son created it in response to Clifford disowning him."

Wallace looked at Tina, knowing they both had the same question. Neither of them knew Lila had any children. It was fine for maids to separate their personal lives from the mansion, and there was no pressure to divulge such information. However, mentioning a son neither Wallace nor Tina knew about seemed vital for them to know before now.

Then something clicked between them. Lila said her son was disowned. By Clifford Jones.

"It seems you've figured it out," Lila continued, sounding amused. "Sadly, after finding out about the Organization, Clifford killed our son. He kept the event under wraps in case word got out that Clifford fathered an abomination who was leading a group that planned on releasing the giants. Unfortunately for Clifford, our grandson was already born, but for some reason, he could not be killed. This led to Clifford sealing him away under the estate. A lot of time and espionage happened before I learned the truth. Still, eventually, I found my grandson and took up the leadership position of the Organization."

While Lila spoke, Wallace tried to fill in the blank parts of what he and his house discovered about the giant attack. The knife that was used to open a portal to free the giant reacted to blessed individuals and inheritors, implying that they were what powered the artifact. It stood to reason that the cult was limited in access to a means to charge the knife since the person they were using was imprisoned and likely weakened. Freeing the frost giant was a test, but Wallace wasn't sure if it was a success or failure.

Either way, they lost the knife and allowed House Jones to retrieve it. But why would they blow their cover now if the cult had spies in the house and the knife was safely secured in a place they could reach? Perhaps the knife was intrinsic to Lila's plan, and if they were going to steal it, they might as well release who Lila called Rory.

Wallace focused his gaze on Rory, who waved back at him. The gesture shocked Wallace by its genuineness, but he refocused himself.

Wallace returned to Lila and said, "I'm sorry for your loss. However, my grandfather is dead. If you wanted to get vengeance, you are a few years too late. Why don't you surrender? We can try to end this whole thing peacefully."

Lila looked confused. "That's not the conclusion I thought you came to."

"Despite my actions, I have no desire to fight you."

"Perhaps, but surely, you know there is no other choice." Wallace remained silent, implying that Lila, the man of the mansion, didn't know what she was talking about. "I know you've read the fine print on your grandfather's will."

Of course, Wallace read the will—at least, it was read to him when he first came to the mansion. Afterward, he never found the need to look at it again outside of legal confirmation that he was related to his grandfather. Wallace looked over to Tina since she was more likely to know what the will said, but what he saw horrified him.

Tina's skin was pale, but every mouth on every bend of her body materialized, and she hissed like a crocodile at Lila.

In a horrible symphony of her voice, Tina spoke to Lila, who had a devilish smile on her old face. "You have no right invoking the will after all you've been a part of, you hag!"

"If I didn't," Lila began, "the Dawn Council would have, and I can assure you they would be no more kinder to your dear master."

"What is she talking about?" asked Wallace.

As tears welled in Tina's eyes, she said with one voice, "The will, as written, says that everything that belonged to Clifford would go to his last living relative. From what I can tell, he used the Eye of Truth to divine that your mother was going to die young, leaving you as an orphan. However, suppose this Rory truly is a descendant of Master Clifford. In that case, the only way for the will to continue to apply to you is if you kill your cousin."

"Or Rory kills Wallace," said Lila, almost laughing, "and he becomes the man of the mansion."

"Have you lost your mind?!" Wallace shouted. "If this is for justice for your family, I understand. But if you win and the Dusk Council finds out, they will reject you. House Jones stands as tall as it does because of the Council."

"What Council?" Lila's nonchalant question froze Wallace's heart. "You didn't think we were just releasing the giants for fun? Rory has a connection to the giants that will allow him to control them. When we are done, not only will the Dusk Council be whipped out, but Rory will be more than the Master of House Jones. He will be the King of the Worlds."

A thick sheet of silent dread fell over the field as Lila stood triumphantly. Then, the silence was broken by laughter, but only Wallace was laughing. Everyone looked at him with confusion except for Eli and Rory.

When he could catch his breath, Wallace began to speak again. "I'm sorry. You just sounded so confident in your plan. It's bold of you to think you already won."

Lila frowned. Her face betrayed her annoyance that Wallace wasn't taking this seriously. "Did you forget the part where I said that even your grandfather couldn't kill Rory? What did you think I meant by that? Not even starving in chains wasn't enough to diminish his power."

"And frankly, I don't care. You've caused me and so many others so much grief all while you watched, stone-faced. The last thing I want is to give you the satisfaction of watching me grovel in grief for another second. When I win, I'll see that you will rot for your sins."

"That's the spirit!" Rory's voice was hoarse, but he was still able to project enough for Wallace to hear him clearly. Despite his enthusiasm, it was not matched by Lila's look of dismay. The older woman tried to call Rory back as he walked forward, but he gently brushed her aside. "This is the man I've come to admire."

Rory then reached into his right pocket and pulled out a silver lighter. As the sunlight washed the item, Wallace could see a faint rune surrounding the image of a snake. Rory flipped open the cap and lit the lighter, but the flames came out like a geyser. As the fire reached four feet in length, the rest of the lighter grew into a hilt wrapped in dark leather, and the cap formed the cross guard. The flame then solidified into a translucent blade with the edges glowing white-hot and the centerline burned deep red, reminiscent of flowing lava. The blade also had faint runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Wallace walked forward, pulling out Gungnir in top form, and instantly manifested it as a spear. There was no time to contemplate if there was a better option. A fight to the death had started.