The Moorland Menace got up and started walking and walking. The crater got left behind, and it sat down near the overgrown rock and joined the nature and earth spirits.

A giant ball of spectral fire appeared in its hand, and it started rolling it, leaving the spirits behind.

The Moorland Menace kept rolling it, leaving a trail of spectral fire, behind which the earth and nature spirits followed.

It got rolled over to the crater, which got ignited in the blue spectral fire and not the black and blue fire.

The earth and nature spirits that had followed the trail got into action, and Loran observed how these tiny spirits did their best to repair the scene.

But there was something missing. More walking and the cursed armor made its way to the Aquini River, located water and wind spirits and started rolling another ball of spectral fire.

It then sat down near the previous location of the water stream and watched how the spirits got to work.

It wasn’t fast, but there was progress.

A weak voice called out and a tired, slightly wounded woman of around 19 or 20 years sat down next to the Moorland Menace.

Loran recognized her as the Golden Angel of the party.

“You killed my party.”

No reaction.

“Aren’t you going to kill me too?”

The Golden Angel took out a plastic bag and dropped it.

No reaction.

“Are you perhaps upset that the moorlands got destroyed? That [Meteor] was a bit too crazy. It wasn’t in our plan… We should have expected that when partying with a witch though…”

Again no reaction.

Loran wondered when this human would find out that the Moorland Menace couldn’t speak.

Time passed, and the water stream had been mostly restored by the spirits. The crater still remained, but the earth and nature spirits repaired the area, ignoring the elevation and unevenness.

It made Loran wonder if these moorlands were so uneven due to events like this and the earth not getting straightened out.

The Golden Angel noticed too and looked around like a little kid.

“Did you do this? I’ve never seen nature repair itself like this before!”

The funny flexing water spirit appeared, to Loran’s relief. He wasn’t sure if spirits could die or the conditions needed to kill them, but it appeared that the river stream crew was okay and returned one by one.

The face of a woman with blonde locks appeared in front of Loran.

“Hey, what’s your name? My name is Eileen! Surely your real name isn’t ‘Moorland Menace’, right?”

No reaction.

Spectral fire kept being fed to the spirits and Eileen got ignored completely.

“So, what are you doing? I never considered what you would do when you’re not killing.”

Surely this human would realize, right? And where was her sense of danger? It was unknown how long the peaceful phase would last, so Eileen could get slaughtered at any moment.

The stream returned to its former glory at the end of the day, but the crater needed more time.

Eileen had been sitting next to the Moorland Menace the whole time.

“Say… is it possible that you can’t speak?”

Loran would facepalm if he had the autonomy to.

“This explains a lot! I’m sure things could have been talked about if you could! But oof, it must suck to not be able to talk. Being all alone doesn’t help either!’

Eileen got up and patted her chest. “I will keep you company and try to understand you better!”

Loran wanted to protest. She does know she’s toying with her life, right?

Eileen put up a tent, said ‘Goodnight’ and retreated for the night.

Loran’s attention went to the spirits. ‘Is this where the term free spirit comes from?’

Eileen didn't appear to act that much different from these spirits.

The Moorland Menace got up after an hour and walked to its next destination, leaving the tent behind.

A sandpit was the next pit stop, and earth spirits rolling in the sand got fed spectral fire.

Darkness made way for light. It was a new dawn, a new day. A peaceful morning got broken by a scream.

‘How could you just leave without me! I went for a toilet break to find that you left me behind!”

Eileen came running with a red face but got ignored completely.

She stopped to rest, chest heaving and panting, clearly out of breath, and the Moorland Menace started its rounds to clean the area.

“Hey! Wait… give me 5… or 10… maybe an hour? Hey waaaait!”

Eileen followed from a great distance. Not out of caution, but due to the steady pace the Moorland Menace kept. Eileen was unable to rest for long and kept being left behind.

A family got chased away that was holding a picnic. Someone was walking their dog and also got chased away.

Some teenagers were littering and got slaughtered without hesitation.

Another family holding a picnic, and another.

Loran was seeing a problem. The humans were forgetting what a menace this cursed armor could be. It would like going on a picnic on a popular murder scene. Nobody sane would do that yet here they were.

Another family on a picnic. They were playing with a strange disk and playing catch.

The husband of the family dropped it however and unfortunately for them, the Moorland menace saw this as littering.

The day ended with 15 deaths, but hundreds of people that had lived to see another day

Back to the stream and Eileen finally caught up.

‘Golden….Angels…aren’t made for…this…”

Eileen collapsed to the ground, and Loran feared for a moment that the moorland menace would regard that as littering.

The small water spirit was flexing again. It noticed Eileen, waddled over and sprayed water in her face.

“Hey! What gives?! Huh? I feel refreshed!”

Eileen got up and mimicked the water spirit, which started flexing again.

“Huh what? What’s going on?! Help!”

The spirit tired and returned to the stream. Eileen got her autonomy back and sat down.

“Did you do that?”

No response.

“This must be your home, you always return to this spot.”

The tent got put up again, but Eileen sat in front of it.

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“You know. I might not look like anything special but…”

Eileen made a rectangle with both her thumbs and index fingers.

“I think I have a gist of what’s going on here.”

Eileen rummaged through her bag and pulled out a leather-bound notebook and started writing.

“I’m still a Golden Angel. But phew…. Getting here sucked!”

The spirits got curious and flocked around her to find out what this strange human was doing.

Loran hoped that they would allow Eileen to rest, as they had been pranking a lot of animals and humans lately.

“That witch said something interesting. First, about the spirits getting angry and at our planned meeting that humans were surprisingly useless in anything relating to nature and magic…”

Eileen hung her head, recovered and continued writing.

Loran waited for her to continue, but she kept writing.

Half an hour went by and she looked up.

“Right… you can’t talk. Uhhm. Either way, the witch also said that we humans are painfully unaware that spirits are more abundant than we realize. She theorized in our strategy meeting that you might be related to spirits!”

Eileen pointed her pen at the Moorland menace but, as usual, no response.

“She then started talking about bullshit which wasn’t important but me with my genius mind thought, spirits are ghosts, and ghosts mean curses! You sir area cursed!”

Loran was unsure if to be impressed or be disappointed. Wouldn’t a cursed armor be the first suspicion?

“They wouldn't listen to me and ignored m opinions…”Eileen’s head hung again and she stopped writing.

“I…I have always been an invisible girl. I had no friends when I was a kid. Nobody listened or cared for me. Not even my parents. And that’s why I went to become a Golden Angel! Loved by all!”

Eileen stood up with vigor and pointed her pen to the sky.

“But… pheweee, becoming one was hard. I always thought that I just had to learn healing skills and protective barriers but noooo!”

Eileen sat down and resumed writing.

“I needed to study medicine. Hey, did you know? Golden Angels aren’t very common, as years of studying is needed. We need to be able to fix our friends up even if we’re out of mana or in mana free areas. Diagnosing curses, status ailments or diseases don't have a dedicated skill. Knowledge is needed to come to a diagnosis.”

A page got flipped and Eileen continued writing.

“All in all, it was a rough road. I would have never aimed to become one if I knew this but… I passed, and now I’m a C-rank Golden Angel. Everyone wants me in the party now, and my voice is being heard! Until that meeting…”

Eileen closed her notebook, walked toward the Moorland Menace, and put her hand on its arm.

“You’re cursed right? Not you, the armor. Someone is inside, right?”

A feeling welled up in Loran, one he hadn’t felt for over a year.

Someone knew. Someone had seen him. He wanted to thank her, he wanted to talk to her, but all he could do was; no response.

“You went a bit too fast for me today, and I will try to keep up, but I think I already figured some things around.”

Eileen patted on the notebook she had strapped around her hip.

“I just have one request. If you kill me, can you at least allow me to finish my notes?”

Loran’s feelings made a 180.

This woman stayed, knowing she would die. She didn't seem impressive at first but was dedicated to her role even in the face of death.

She returned to her tent and sat down.

“So for the you stuck inside. You must not have a conversation in forever. I’m not great at conversations… I…”

Eileen paused and opened her notebook.

“I will just read what I found out.”

She flipped some pages and stopped. “You remove anything that doesn’t belong in the moorlands. Part of our strategy was drawing your attention by littering. The people you come across could also be considered as not belonging here but… I’m still unsure why you stopped killing. Those that littered got brutally removed, however.”

Eileen flipped more pages. “You do stop at random places, sit down and do nothing. Are you recharging? Or doing something else. The witch speculated that your action here is related to the spirits. Maybe you can only talk to spirits?”

More pages got flipped.

“Magic doesn't work on you. At least not the basic elements. Even a [Meteor] didn’t do anything against you. What elements that do work, needs to be found out. Your black and blue fire… is spirit magic. We might need spirit mages to restrain you, so something can lift your curse.”

Eileen stretched her hand toward the Moorland Menace.

“Being unaffected by normal magic means that water or arcane lament skills often used to lifting curses won’t work either. I don’t know spirit magic and probably not the magic type you’re weak to, so I can’t help you, unfortunately.”

Eileen tapped on her notebook.

“Which is why I’m gathering information, to inform the one who could.”

The notebook closed and Eileen yawned.

“All I need to find out is why you’re so peaceful now but violent otherwise. Please only kill me after I find out and write it down, for your own good.”

Eileen yawned again.

“I’m going to sleep, please don’t leave this time…”

She disappeared in the tent and the moorland Menace didn’t break character and continued giving no response.

The spirits had infinite energy and played through the night.

A head peeked out of the tent the next morning, which then smiled.

“Good! No running!”

Eileen walked to the stream to draw some water and started cooking.

She was careful to not litter and managed to cook and eat a whole meal.

The Moorland Menace got up as 6 presences approached.

Another party and they were coming to retrieve Eileen.

“Go away! I have determined hat solving the moorland menace Mystery will be my life’s work!”

This party got forceful and tried to drag her away.

“Moorland Menace! Help me!”

She knocked the spear an adventurer was holding out of his hand, which fell to the ground.

Loran’s body moved, and the distance got closed in a moment.

The man let go of Eileen, trying to defend himself but screamed out as his face contorted after a loud snap.

His arm was bent in a strange way, and he dropped to one knee, the perfect height for the uppercut the Moorland Menace followed up with.

Blood and teeth flew, and the man fell backward.

“No littering! Shoo or he will kill you all!”

The party hesitated as they looked at the fallen adventurer.

“His jaw is broken, and I’m pretty sure his brains turned to mush from that punch. It would be better for him if he died, as his quality of life surely would suck if he’s still alive. There aren’t many Golden Angels that can fix ‘brains turned to mush’.”

Eileen got called an asshole before the party abandoned their fallen comrade and fled.

The patrol continued as if nothing had happened but this time with a companion.

Several parties appeared during the weeks she followed the Moorland menace, but she continued to refuse any help.

She spent hours writing, observing and trying to talk to Loran and not the Moorland Menace.

She didn't miss the moments when the Moorland Menace fed spectral fire to the spirits. Not only that, but she helped clean the moorlands, and she warned the people to not litter or ‘pay with your life’.

Loran’s fear kept growing every day. He had gotten attached to Eileen, but he knew that a day would come where the peaceful mode stopped, and Eileen would be the first victim when that would happen.

It truly was a curse, as something pleasant would turn into something terrible.

“Say! Where do you get your energy from? You don’t eat or sleep. The basic rules of the world dictate that energy doesn't get formed or destroyed, only transformed, so… what makes you move? You don’t run on mana, for as far as I can tell. You’re also not biological. Is it spirit magic? I don’t know how that works, though.”

Eileen tapped her pen on her notebook and continued writing.

Nights like these had become common. Eileen would ask questions, explain why she’s asking it and trying to answer it based off the moorland Menace’s behavior.

“Sunlight? But you also move during the dark. Hmmm. Resting shouldn't generate energy.

Eileen dropped her pen.

“I got it!”

She jumped around, picked up her pen and started writing.

She held up her hand without looking up. “Give me a moment. This is important, and I don’t know how long I have, or more accurately… how much energy you have left. I’m such a genius!”

The writing continued for half an hour when she finished, closed her notebook, tied it and cast barriers on it.

“Haaa.”

Eileen exhaled, stood up and approached.

“You… are the grim reaper!”

Loran had no idea and wondered if something was wrong with Eileen’s head.

“Your energy must be related to how many people you kill. Your first recorded peaceful era was after a party and the Zarrazax cult tried to seal you away. Many people died, and you stopped killing for a long time. That passed, and the killing resumed until...”

Eileen shifted her gaze southeast.

“... Until you met that army. The deaths were orders of magnitude larger and guess what, you went into another peaceful era. Now what you use it for, I don’t know, but it might be related to spirit magic. This means my work is done but… I want to see it to the end. I just need a mote of mana to change the last number on the last page to the amount of days you have been peaceful. The rough numbers of deaths are known. Someone will work it out from there.”

Loran had no choice to accept this. Eileen proved that she was smarter than him so he believed her.

Eileen continued observing the Moorland Menace. Adding some lines to her notes occasionally.

She kept up her energy and fiery temperament whenever parties tried to retrieve her. She was a Golden Angel after all and Golden Angels were extremely valuable.

Not only that, but she just knew how to make these parties to mess up so that the Moorland menace would attack them. She did study the Moorland Menace, after all, and could be considered an expert.

The spectral fire stopped coming out a year and 3 months after Eileen’s conclusion.

The cursed armor stood up and faced Eileen, who was cooking some fish.

“I see… it’s time.”

Eileen flicked her finger and the notebook glowed. She picked it up and tied it firmly to her body.

“Please, not my face.”

Loran tried to scream and stop the armor as the armor walked over to Eileen.

It stood still and towered over her

It went so fast. A black armored arm plunged into her abdomen, causing blood to spurt out of her mouth.

“Someone will get you out of there. I promise…”

Eileen’s body shivered. Her arm tried to reach for Loran’s face but fell limp before reaching the halfway point. Rage, loss, powerlessness and denial filled Loran, and he was unable to deal with the welling emotions.

The Moorland Menace retrieved its arm, let Eileen’s body drop to the side, and started running.

‘Thud, thud, thud.’

The familiar sound that had been absent for over a year had returned. The moorland menace was out for blood.