Gwenyth Sterling peered through the spotting glass, her eye focusing on the island that was Buravon. Despite the coming night, the town was clearly visible, thanks to a glow that hung beyond the docks. Gwenyth couldn’t really focus on the details, but she assumed that all was well with the small settlement.
“How much longer?” William called out from below the mast.
Gwenyth turned to the herald, her hands collapsing the spotting glass. “Just a bit longer. Buravon is visible, but not close…” Gwenyth swung her legs around on the beam she was situated on. She slid down the mast’s length before landing cleanly on the deck. William was resting up a nearby crate, his hands gripping the mast tightly. “Have you ever been on a ship?” Gwenyth asked, raising an eyebrow as she sat nearby.
“Not since the war,” William admitted. “Even then, I was not the best at holding it in.” The man shuddered.
“A herald prone to seasickness,” Gwenyth muttered.
“So?” William asked. “Heralds aren’t gods. We’re just chosen by them,” he added. “We too can get sick, be afraid, and have weaknesses.”
“Then tell me, how were you chosen?” Gwenyth pressed. “You were fighting in a war that involved a lot of naval combat, were you not? It’s hard to imagine a goddess would be impressed by a man who can’t stand the movement of waves.” She knew William had earned his status from a battle years back, around the end of the Outsider Wars. The elf herself did not fight in that conflict, so she knew little the details.
William’s expression darkened at her words, his gaze moving to the deck. “It was a long time ago,” he muttered. “I was barely a man, working to become a Lumen Knight.”
Gwenyth furrowed her brow at the herald, who seemed to hesitate after every word. She wondered if it was right to allow him to continue with his story. She herself knew how painful it was to recall things of the past. Still, before her choice could be made, William continued.
“I was in a company stationed on the coast, south of Norum. Our company commander decided it would be best to move up to help an island under siege by barbarians. Arriving there, a barbarian ship collided with ours. Commander died and half our company was reduced. We were then put under command by another man who led a separate troop.”
William went silent for a moment, as if he was recalling the moment. His hands were no longer shaking, his body suddenly still.
“The troop leader took us in and in a moment of pride and ego, he charged us forth the awaiting barbarians at the siege.” William took a deep breath. “That bastard got nearly everyone killed. Went in without orders from the upper command. Good men lost their lives. All for a small island. That was the work of Azlene’s former herald.” He clenched his fists tightly. “All that death, it was worthless. We lost regardless. It was a miracle he and I made it out alive. After that shitshow, I challenged him to a duel.” William looked at Gwenyth. “You’re familiar with deity sanctioned duels?”
“I am,” the elf answered. She had seen more than she cared for during her time in Azurvale. The rules for such a duel were simple. One or both duelists represent a god, fighting for their honor. Whoever lost was humiliated and lost whatever respect they had beforehand. Of course, in the case of a deity-sanctioned duel, the herald loses more than their self honor. They lose their god’s favor, which goes to the winner along with their personal castings exclusive to the deity they once represented.
“I challenged him, in the name of my lost brothers. He accepted and defended his choice, representing the goddess Azlene. We fought,” William continued. He looked at his right hand, his left pulling his sleeve back a little. “He was good, better in some respects. But I was angry, filled with a fiery will that overpowered his own. I won that fight, out of the sheer determination of wanting to avenge my fellow men. I didn’t expect to take his place as herald.” William turned his palm over to Gwenyth, revealing a mark on his wrist.
Upon inspecting it closer, Gwenyth recognized the symbol of the goddess Azlene. It was a black mark that resembled a flame’s flickering form.
“Who would have known that such a small thing could have changed my life so drastically?” William chuckled dryly. “What I wouldn’t do to be back in Lumen with my fellow soldiers.”
“We all have our regrets,” Gwenyth muttered. Gods knew what things she would change. The people she could have saved, the things she would have preserved. The elf dug into her pocket, her fingers brushing against a small rock that bore a piece of golden ore. “But those regrets make us better people. It makes us remember that we’re still ourselves. That we haven’t changed.”
William raised an eyebrow. “I see despite being hundreds of years old, you’re still human on the inside. Or elf. Well, actually…”
“Don’t ruin the moment,” Gwenyth sighed.
“Sorry. Forgot that you had pointed ears.” William nervously laughed.
The elf couldn’t help but touch her rounded ears, something that resulted from illusory means. “You’re fine,” she breathed out. Gwenyth felt uncomfortable without her pointed ears. It had become a tick for her to touch at them, to make sure they were still there. That nervous tick was the result of an old bad habit of more than a century ago.
Back then, Gwenyth had been desperate and living in fear. Of course, she was only a couple hundred years old at the time, her emotions running wild and her life on the line. Now things were different, a far cry from the elf she used to be. Still, Gwenyth found herself reminiscing about those times, despite their chaotic nature. Although she had been fighting for her life back then, those years were the most she had ever felt alive.
“Are you smiling?” William suddenly asked. Gwenyth snapped out of her thoughts, her face gaining a flush as she stood up.
“It’s nothing. Forget you saw it.” She quickly dismissed herself before the herald could get another word out. Gwenyth walked off from William, instead heading off to the bow of the ship.
‘I need to stop thinking about it. It’s been over a century now. There’s no reason to keep remembering.’
Gwenyth pushed her recovering memories to the back of her mind, instead focusing on the oncoming island. Buravon was becoming more and more visible, to where Gwenyth could see the docks clearly. She blinked once, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her hand reached for the spotting glass at her belt. After extending it, she brought it up to her eye.
“What in Delphine’s mercy…?” Gwenyth trailed off.
“What is it?” One crewmate asked from nearby.
Gwenyth surveyed the island, confusion and dread settling in her chest. “It’s… dark,” she muttered.
“What?” Arthur questioned.
“There are no more lights. No lanterns, no torches. It’s gone dark.” Gwenyth frowned. “There're ships docked but… It all looks dead. No signs of anyone.”
“No people? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure of it. This town isn’t a popular place, but it’s unusual for there not to be anyone out this early in the evening.” Gwenyth collapsed her glass. “This is all too strange.” She looked at Arthur, a feeling of dread slowly blossoming in her chest.
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
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James rubbed at his eyes, doing his best to get his vision used to the darkness. The streets of Vindis were only lit by street posts and hanging lanterns. However, it seemed as if the city was far from truly being dead. People still roamed the streets, almost all of them wearing shady clothing as they pushed past others. Traders pushing carts and escorts enticing men were still prominent here, despite the dark alleyways and suspicious personnel. James turned to the man who had taken his blindfold off. He was busy helping his friend take off Seamus’ and Harald’s blindfolds, which were tightly tied in knots.
After those two were freed of them, one guard gestured towards the red-haired fiend who was currently barking and shouting at her captor. Seamus blinked his eyes rapidly before moving to help with her blindfold.
“Hey calm down! It’s me! Seamus?!”
James heard how the young man struggled with Lilith, doing his best not to get his fingers bit off as she kicked and yelled. Seamus, Harald, and Lilith were the three James picked for his small quest. He wanted to choose Archibald over the berserker, but Lilith absolutely refused to be separated from Seamus. In the end, James had to pick her and Seamus over Archibald and Bjorn. He knew this wasn’t going to go over well with mercenaries, but he honestly had more trust in Seamus. Also, he wasn’t going to put his faith into a drunk and injured dwarf with an elf that didn’t get along with said dwarf.
James looked over at the hooded men. “Where do we go? I’m not all familiar with this part of the city.”
One man stepped up. “Follow the street here. Keep going until you find the slums. Once there, you’ll have to head north. Keep navigating until you see the Touka. That’s where the hideout is, according to our scouts,” he finished, his back already turning on the group.
“Wait! Touka? How do I know what their hideout looks like? What’s with the name?” James asked.
“Believe me,” the hooded man said. “You’ll know it when you see it.”
Before James could question some more, the cloaked figures had already blended into the shadows, disappearing completely.
“Well, there goes our last bits of guidance,” Harald muttered.
“James, I think you’ve killed us,” Seamus suddenly blurted out. “You put us out here in the middle of this godsforsaken city and had us hunt down a fucking necromancer! I thought for once, maybe you have learned to be cautious, but as it turned out, you’re still the risk-taking fool from before!”
“Seamus, I–”
“Don’t try to explain yourself…” Seamus breathed out tiredly. His angry outburst seemed to have been only temporary, as his shoulders sagged. “Let’s just get this over with and get moving.”
James watched as Seamus pushed past him, heading towards the street the men from before had pointed out. Harald looked at the surprised blond man, a small look of disapproval on his face.
“What?” James asked. “I didn’t really have much of a choice… I did what had to be done.”
“I know,” Harald sighed. “Look, James, at some point, you’ll have to learn to avoid these situations. I know you’re doing your best to choose the best course of action but, sometimes things aren’t as simple.” The veteran turned to Seamus, who was shuffling away from the two men. Lilith was behind him, looking confused at the young man’s recent outburst.
“He has gone to hell and back with you. Killed men when he didn’t want to.” Harald turned to James. “Seamus trusts you. But he also fears you. He’s afraid of the luck you have in these kinds of situations. At some point he thinks that maybe, one day, we all won’t be so lucky.” He placed a hand on James’ shoulder. “Learn to limit your risks. Because one day, our luck will run out. One way or another.” With that, the veteran turned and walked off with Seamus and Lilith.
James stared for a good few seconds, pondering over the words. They were similar to Dahlia’s own words in a way relating to luck and fate. Yet Harald’s talk with James pointed out one thing the blond man didn’t consider. His friends. Eventually, their own fate will be spun and the scales will reset for them.
‘James,’ Faust muttered, his voice bringing James out of his thoughts. ‘It is not wise to think about such things. Doing so will drive you insane one day.’
“Got it.” James took a deep breath and stepped forward, making his way to his companions. As he did so, James looked back at where the men had disappeared. He hoped the mercenaries and the shipmaster would be alright.
“James! Let’s keep moving,” Harald’s voice called out to the clan leader, leading him away from the dark alleyway. The blond man hurried away from the shadows, following the street ahead with his party. As the group moved to their destination, rain started to patter upon them. At first, it was only a couple of cold drops. However, it soon began to escalate. By the time James had his hood up, the rain had increased to shower level, completely soaking his cloak. Thankfully for his friends, they all had their capes ready to cover them from the incoming rain. Even Lilith was covered in her oversized cloak, protecting herself from the cold water.
“This is the part of Bloom I dread the most,” Seamus muttered. “The rain drenches everything and the lingering cold from the previous season makes it near unbearable.”
“How common are these storms?” James asked. The constant rain had already been affecting Yorktown, the storms usually coming in every few days and soaked everything that had the misfortune of being left outside. James himself had been caught outside during many of these storms and had even caught a minor cold. Fortunately, his high metabolism and small healing factor had burned through it in a couple of days.
“They’re constant,” Harald answered James. “I can’t tell you how many illnesses these storms bring to small towns. It’s not uncommon for a wandering disease to form and kill the young and old. Yorktown alone had half its elderly die out from the last Bloom sickness,” the veteran explained.
“Shit,” James muttered. He had forgotten how deadly disease can truly be, especially since in this world, advanced medicine was limited to health potions and clerics. No vaccines, no antibiotics, and clearly no immunization. James himself was lucky that he didn’t contract a foreign disease from Azura that could very well kill him just as easily as any common man. Hell, he was lucky that he didn’t bring the damn flu to this world. James could only imagine how chaotic things could have gotten if he had the sniffles the day he was summoned to this world. He shuddered at the thought of a simple sneeze killing off an entire town of oblivious peasants.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Looks like we’re getting closer,” Seamus pointed out. The young man gestured to their surroundings, which were slowly deteriorating the more they walked. Buildings of brick soon turned to wooden structures that looked unstable. Less and fewer people were around, most of them walking away from the upcoming street. James saw how the floating platforms were becoming smaller, with their bridges looking more and more primitive. He could swear that the ground beneath was slowly swaying.
At some point, the surrounding city was unrecognizable. The rain made it harder to see, but James could clearly make it out that they were in an entirely different part of Vindis. Buildings were now either barely holding on or straight up collapsed. The amount of light was next to none, the only source being the street lamps that barely lit up the platforms. As James traversed to the next platform, the connecting bridge creaked and groaned under his and the group’s weight. The new platform didn’t do them any favors, as it also creaked with every step.
“I guess this is the copper district,” James murmured. He spotted what looked like ships in the distance. “Are we close to a harbor?” He asked aloud.
“No,” Harald responded. “That’s just an extension of the slums,” He revealed.
“Wait what?” James looked to the veteran, who was currently overseeing the distant ships.
“Look, see how some of those masts seem tilted?” Harald pointed out. James focused on the ships ahead, squinting his eyes. Just as Harald said, some ships and their masts were tilted, almost as if they were sinking. Yet they stayed afloat, only bobbing and swaying now and then.
“What the… How is…?”
“It’s a remnant of Vindis’ founding,” Seamus spoke up. “It’s hard to believe, but Vindis didn’t really start out as a floating city,” the young man added. “From the stories I’ve heard, Vindis started out as a small group of bandit ships tied together to form a base of operations. Soon enough, however, it developed into a small floating village. Then it continued to grow as time went on. By the time the next century rolled around, it had already turned into the city we know now,” Seamus spoke with an informative tone, void of any fascination. “The founding ships, however, never were maintained. As you see before you, the former town of Old Vindis is now just a slum. Riddled with filth and rot,” Seamus bitterly ended his explanation.
James looked at the young man, who was currently avoiding eye contact.
‘It’s best if we let him be. This part of the city seems to touch a nerve within him.’ Faust murmured.
James silently agreed with the spirit. Without much of a word, the party continued their trek into the copper district. The heavy rain began to let up, before soon reducing itself to a light pattering. James sighed in relief at the change in the weather. Now, without the constant rainfall, he could now see much more clearly.
The surrounding scenery had shifted from buildings of wood and stone to the stripped hulls of galleons and brigs. Most of the former ships had been transformed into buildings, with their hulls carved out and their broken masts acting as support beams. Even the platform below their feet had shifted to large rafts that were held taught by ropes and buoys. James could feel how his balance wavered with every step, his fear of the deep sea only increasing whenever he looked down at the exposed gaps. There were rarely people out here, and the ones James saw consisted of dust users and shifty people who watched from a distance.
Finally, after nearly half an hour of walking, they came across what looked to be a capsized man-o-war. Its enormous hull seemed to belittle all the other improvised buildings around it, making it stand out. James looked up at the hull, his gaze focusing on the painted waves and runic symbols. He tilted his head at the upside down lettering that was left, as some of it had been scratched or worn off. He squinted as he read aloud the leftover letters.
“T-O-U-K-A,” he muttered. “Are you fucking serious?” James couldn’t help but express his disbelief. This was the hideout? This was where those hooded men had so much trouble? It was so exposed and blatant that James pondered on the possibility that Markov was stringing him along.
“So this is it?” Harald asked. The veteran crossed his arms, his eyebrow raised. “Why would someone hide out in something so exposed?”
“I guess hiding in plain sight?” James questioned.
“I don’t like this,” Seamus expressed. “This doesn’t feel right… It’s too obvious, too open.” The young man looked worried. Even Lilith was cautious, her hands signing to Seamus.
“What is she saying?” James asked.
“She doesn’t like the smell of the place. She says it stinks of death,” Seamus muttered. James looked at the berserker, who was staring vehemently at the entrance carved into the hull.
“We should try to find another way in… I don’t think waltzing through the entrance is a good idea,” James suggested.
“Good idea,” Harald nodded. “Judging from the class of ship, there should be a cargo opening on its port side. We should head to it to see if we can enter that way.”
“Lead the way then.”
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As Harald had predicted, there was an exposed opening on the ship’s port side. Once they had pried open the wooden boards that barricaded it, the party of four descended into the capsized ship.
The deck was modified heavily, to no one’s surprise. It only made sense that an upside down ship would be modified to prevent any accidents. Still, James had to give it to them. This place looked homely. Lanterns were hung up, lighting up the deck with a soft glow. Barrels and crates were strewn about, yet there didn’t seem to be any sign of people living here. As the group explored, they found nothing but dust covered tankards and tables, no sign of recent life anywhere.
“Nothing,” James muttered.
“I guess we have to go deeper into this place,” Harald spoke up.
“Does Lilith smell anything strange?” James called out to Seamus. He watched as the other man signed to the red-haired woman, before she too signed back.
“She says that the dust is overpowering everything, but she can still catch the scent of death, even if faint,” Seamus translated.
“I see…” James rubbed at his chin. It seemed as if Lilith could pick up scents that the rest could not.
‘She’s like a human bloodhound.’
“Let me know if she picks up anything else,” James said to Seamus. He looked back to Harald, who was investigating the darker parts of the deck.
“There’s a makeshift ladder leading down,” Harald pointed out.
“I guess that’s where we’re going then,” James murmured to himself. With that, he and his friends descended lower into the ship, passing by even more lit rooms and abandoned items.
They would pass through two levels, all of them containing nothing but lit lanterns and things such as tables, barrels, and cots.
“Are we sure this place isn’t already abandoned?” James commented as they came across a table with a rough map of Vindis, points of interest stabbed with knives. There were even silver coins leftover, dust caking their shiny faces. He blew off the dust, which nearly clouded the room.
“Markov said that their men had been here recently,” Harald coughed out.
James picked up a couple of the silver coins. He eyed the map they were resting upon. “If so, shouldn’t there be remnants of them?” He asked as he rolled up the rough map of Vindis.
“I’m sure they infiltrated the ship in another way.,” Harald said with a shrug.
“Even so, they don’t seem like the kind of people to leave tracks,” Seamus commented from across the room. James tucked in the rolled parchment into his satchel.
“Good points, but it still feels like there’s something wrong with this place.” James couldn’t help but feel exposed inside this ship, his bandaged hand tingling in a way he couldn’t place. There was magic afoot. He knew it. Before he could express his discomfort to his friends, an icy shiver had suddenly come over him.
“Something’s not right,” James said aloud. Before Seamus or Harald could respond, Lilith growled. The red-haired woman went into a low crouch, her hand grabbing at her ax.
“What’s up with her?” James asked.
‘James. Weapon out. Now,’ Faust’s voice commanded.
James followed the spirit’s advice, his right hand moving to unsheathe his sword.
“I-I don’t know. She’s not signing to me,” Seamus stuttered. “Something’s got her riled up.” Seamus moved to grab at his sword, unwrapping the cloth that covered it. Even Harald had his blade out. His gaze focused on the dark corners of the room.
James looked to where Harald was staring at. He caught the glimpse of movement in the shadows, followed by the clack of something hitting the ground. More sounds of clicking and clacking filled the room, with more movement coming from the darkness.
‘Is it…? No, it can’t be it. I would’ve felt its presence.’ James dismissed the idea of the abomination. ‘Faust.’
‘On it.’
With that, the blond man felt his eyes burn with the magical presence of the spirit. His vision cleared and the shadows soon became no more.
Once he got a good look, he couldn’t help but stare blankly. Before his eyes were the limping forms of clacking bone, their joints popping as they formed in the shadows. James stared at the skeletons in front of him, their vacant skulls showcasing pinpricks of green light right where the eyes used to be. Some skeletons were still forming together, their bones clicking together as they slowly stood up. Their skeletal hands brandished dusty daggers, axes, and even short swords. Their jaws popped in place, before clacking together in satisfaction. Still, James could see how green strings of magic kept their limbs together, alluding to a higher power being responsible for their presence.
‘Conjurations.’ Was the word that popped into James’ mind.
“The necromancer. Of course he has summons!” James realized aloud. “He’s conjuring skeletons to stop us,” he explained shortly.
“Skeletons?” Seamus questioned. “Conjurations? Dammit, I knew we shouldn’t have taken this job!”
“Quiet down!” Harald shouted at the young man. “Just keep close and remember your training. We can take them on if we stick together!” The veteran shouted out. “Tell Lilith to keep close to the center. Don’t let her stray too far or she’ll get overwhelmed.”
As the four grouped up, the skeletons took it as their time to strike. James tried to do a headcount, but soon lost track beyond the number seven. He raised his sword, stiffening his posture as he took deep breaths. He would have to keep his calm during this scuffle, as their numbers could easily overwhelm the group.
‘Faust, keep me alive, will you?’ James mentally muttered. Before he could get confirmation from the Centurion, a skeleton advanced upon him with frightening speed.
The fight was on.
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In the darker reaches of the Touka, was a room furnished with bookshelves and drawers. Candles lit up the room, showcasing the decorative carvings on the wall and door. This particular room used to be a captain’s quarters long before the ship was capsized. Its former glory was reduced to someone’s lab of sorts, with glowing bottles of curious liquids spotting the shelves. A simple table was at the center of it all, covered in mysterious potions and items that all looked heretical in a way. Among the strange items, a crystal ball was set upon the table, its glow illuminating the delicate hands that controlled it.
“They don’t look like Thieves Guild,” a soft female voice spoke out, her hands hovering over the magical ball. The image changed to another perspective, this time showcasing the berserker that ripped apart one of the conjured skeletons.
“No, they don’t,” a male’s voice conceded. The voice’s owner stepped closer to the ball, a light smile on his painted face. “It seems like they got some adventurers like last time,” he chuckled.
“They’re not like the others before,” the female muttered. “I can sense a form of necromancy among them. Faint, but it’s there.”
“How fascinating!” The man exclaimed. He leaned in closer to the orb, squinting. “Which one do you think it is?” he asked.
“It’s hard to tell…” The woman furrowed her brow. “But I’ll put my gold on the younger one. The one with the bowl shaped hair.”
“Him? Plausible. He doesn’t seem as strong as the others. Makes sense that he uses magic to compensate for his strength. Still…” He twirled his finger.
The woman sighed and shifted the orb’s view to the other two men. “The old man?” she questioned.
“No, the blond one,” the man specified.
“Him? He doesn’t seem like the type to use magic like that. He’s got the look of a bruiser. Look at the way he fights.” She focused the orb’s view on him.
The man in question fought brutally, his sword swinging at the skeletons without respite. He even used his left hand to punch at the conjurations, knocking them back before he crushed their skulls with his steel clad boot.
“He could very well be the berserker’s brother. The other two seem more likely as magic users. They fight with much more care. Their movements are clean and orderly.”
“Ah, but you’re not focusing enough,” the man chuckled. He pointed at the blond man. “Look closely at his eyes,” he murmured.
The woman raised an eyebrow, but listened to the man. She leaned into the crystal ball, narrowing her eyes at the orb’s visage. As expected, she didn’t seem to see anything extraordinary. At least for the first couple of seconds. Before she could call out her companion for being stupid, she saw it. It was brief and quick, but she had seen it.
The man’s smile grew to a grin. “See?” he boasted.
The woman stared at the orb, focusing on the magical orb to take a closer look at the blond man. She stayed on him for a bit longer before seeing it again. The blue glint in his eyes. At first, it looked nothing more than a reflection, but this particular woman knew better. She was a witch, after all, and was well versed in the dark arts of magic.
That blue ‘glint’ in the eyes was reminiscent of the sorcery the undead harbored. Used by spirits and necromancers to control undead bodies, the magic usually presented itself a green or purple glow, depending on what kind of magic was being used. Blue was something unexpected. The witch frowned at the blond man in her crystal orb, who didn’t even look close to the undead. In fact, he looked quite lively, his movements quick and his reaction time inhuman to an extent.
“He has a form of necromancy magic in him. It’s hard to tell to what extent, but it’s there. I have seen nothing like it.”
“I want his body,” the man breathed out in fascination. “The advances I can make in my magic, the knowledge his body can carry. It’s all so compelling!”
The witch knew he would fawn over something like this. His necromancy had hit a wall, and he had been unable to overcome that hurdle. At least, until now, it seemed.
“Should I go and retrieve him?” The witch asked.
“Yes! Of course! But alive!” the necromancer insisted. “There’s no telling what will happen if we kill him. For all we know, it could disrupt the anomaly he is.”
The witch nodded in agreement. “Alright. Dream weaver it is, then?” She asked. Her hands pulled away from the orb. The witch’s special illusion magic was the one effective thing she can use to bring the group down non-lethally.
“As long as you do not disrupt his ley lines, do what you must.” The necromancer waved her off.
With that, the witch made her way out of the lab, her fingers forming practice runes as she walked out. She would have to catch them off guard, especially that older man. He seemed like the kind of man with tough mental fortitude. The youngest one seemed the easiest. He looked naïve enough to trick. The berserker was a wild card, but didn’t seem all too intelligent. The witch could confidentially guess she would be easy to put down.
The blond one, however, seemed to be the most unpredictable. Her spell could theoretically put him down, but the traces of necromancy magic in his body meant that there was the possibility of another spirit dormant inside.
“It could make it all the more interesting. It’s been a while since I’ve had a challenge,” she muttered with a smile.
The witch closed the lab’s door behind her before she headed to the upper decks, ready to take on the group of strangers above.