James stretched his legs as he stepped onto Yorktown’s docks, his arms extending above his head. He sighed a breath of relief. Despite being out at sea for a couple of days, he had grown to miss his home. To miss solid ground.
“Thank the Gods we’re here,” he muttered. “Didn’t expect to get here so soon, but I guess we can chalk that up to divine intervention.”
That earned him a chuckle from Dimitri, who carried the Jarl’s items in a chest. “The winds have blessed us, and the sea has decided to favor our vessel. I will say that is probably a new record.”
“Well, record or no record, I’m just happy to be home,” James admitted. He looked up at the sky—which was still gray—and noted how it hadn’t even started to get dark yet. The evening hadn’t arrived yet. That meant he still had work to do, people to talk with, and projects to continue.
Projects that he hoped would soon come to fruition. Despite being in Azura for over a year, James rarely had the opportunity to bring over ideas from his own world. There were glimpses, of course, such as the battle plan that helped in Yorktown’s defense and the half-baked tactics he used during his quest to the three islands last year. Yet he never had the chance to truly bring some of his world’s ideas to this world.
That was until he finally managed to attain the resources and manpower. For the past few months, James was able to explore ideas that had filled the back of his mind during his time in Valenfrost. While a couple were promising, such as the barbed wire and the crude pistol Rockford had made for him, there were still failures.
Electricity and power failed horribly when James tried to use Falrick as a human generator. The magically induced lightning fried every makeshift wire it touched and couldn’t be contained at all. Closest was the experimental silver wiring, but even that couldn’t resist for long. James tried to go for steam engines after, but that also nearly blew up in his face. Mainly because he had little to no knowledge of how the machinations worked.
Rockford seemed to be the only one to even have an inkling of an idea, and he ended up nearly blowing half of his forge into pieces. The dwarf had then mentioned something about a Goddess’ tits and swore to never conduct such an experiment again. James concurred and decided to shelve the idea for another time. Perhaps when he had more knowledge.
Thankfully for him, James had learned that steam engines had existed in Azura at some point—at least, according to the dwarven tales Rockford and Nathan had mentioned. Of course, the knowledge of the engines was lost forever, but there were remnants of them around Azura, classified as relics of a bygone era. Basically, it meant that steam-powered generators weren’t out of the realm of possibilities.
‘A hunt for relics. Sounds kinda fun,’ James thought as he walked to Dimitri to accept his things. For now, however, James had responsibilities to fulfill. He couldn’t wait to get through the day and finally get back to Dahlia. Perhaps they could—
BOOM
A loud, distant explosion echoed in the air, interrupting James’ thoughts. He stopped in place, his heart dropping. He initially thought the source to be from the town or maybe even one of the checkpoints.
‘Raiders?!’
No, he immediately disregarded that possibility. It was coming from somewhere else. Somewhere more inland.
CRACK
Another sound, this one reminiscent of thunder. James finally figured out the source, his gaze focusing on the mountain. The same one where the Beholder Eye was being kept safe. Even from the harbor, James could see how smoke billowed from the entrance to the same cave he was once summoned from.
“Oh. Shit.”
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Helen rushed up the steep incline, her breathing heavy as she carried her spear and shield. She barely had time to get her gear on when the first explosion rang out. It was only after the sound of thunder that she was on her way.
Even after only ten minutes passing, Helen was halfway there. She thanked the endurance training she had put herself through these past months. If it weren’t for that, she doubted she’d get this far this fast.
‘Got to get there, now! Who knows what happened!’
Helen hoped to all the Gods that the explosion was just a result of the cursed demon eye combusting randomly. Or maybe—hopefully—Malik had finally gotten himself smote by a pissed-off deity. She was hoping for that especially.
‘Or maybe… Maybe he took the eye himself?’
Helen shook her head. That was the absolute worst case scenario. A necromancer of his level with an eye like that? Fuck that. Helen had no desire to deal with that. Regardless, it was her job. Her duty. Besides, there were guards posted up there. The last thing she wanted was for them to get hurt or, worse, die.
“Can’t let anything happen to them!” Helen panted as she climbed the mountain path, her legs and chest burning with exertion.
It wasn’t long before Helen finally reached the path’s end. From this vantage point, the view of the island—and even Yorktown—was clear. However, she didn’t focus on the view. The veteran instead shifted her gaze to the entrance carved into the mountain.
Smoke billowed from the narrow passageway, forming a gray pillar that reached high into the heavens. Helen could spot no one nearby, which meant the guards had either run off or gone into the cave. She hoped they weren’t stupid enough to rush in, but she knew better.
Helen had trained these men to never abandon their posts unless it was absolutely necessary. Even though this situation called for them to leave, she knew that these were young, inexperienced men who were probably stupid enough not to recognize it as such.
“Bloom!” Helen shouted the code word into the cave, hoping to get some sort of response. None came, however. She grew increasingly worried.
“Bloom, dammit!” she called out as she approached the entrance, her spear and shield raised.
A silhouette suddenly appeared in the dim passageway, the figure physically hunched as it approached the entrance.
“Horcus! Hor–cough–Horcus!”
It was one of the guards, his arm raised to cover his mouth and nose as he stumbled out into the open. Helen lowered her spear as she moved to drag him away.
“Where’s your partner?” she asked.
“He–cough–went to get help!” the guard managed. “While I… While I went in to help Malik!”
Helen frowned. She didn’t encounter the other guard on her way up here. Then again, it was possible she missed him when she took that shortcut earlier.
“What happened?” Helen asked. “Where’s Malik?”
“We… We were ambushed by—”
Helen felt the world around her stop at that moment. She didn’t even have time to hear what the guard was saying. Instead, her focus went to the sense of danger that was emanating from the passageway. Without thinking, Helen tackled the guard to the ground.
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“Arcane Lance!!”
A lance of purple energy flew from the passageway, its trajectory flying out into the open air before it exploded into a purple shower of sparks past the cliff’s edge.
Helen recognized the voice to be Malik’s, which at first made her believe the necromancer to be behind the breach. However, before she could even consider defending herself for another incoming lance, something emerged from the entrance.
It was someone else entirely, a young woman, Helen guessed. Her cloak was swept over the right shoulder, revealing her clothes—which were clearly kasani in origin—and the forearm-length dagger she held.
The long knife was a kasani blade, its straight edge polished to a near mirror-like reflection. The woman’s clothes looked nothing out of the ordinary until Helen noticed the silver runes stitched into the seams of her tunic, boots, and even her cloak. It was hard to notice, but it all made sense once she saw them.
This woman was a Kasani assassin. She fit the description almost perfectly. Helen tried to remember the name Tahir had given them the last time she conversed with him.
‘Shinobi.’
“Night Spray!” Malik’s voice boomed with power, and his callout was followed by a flurry of purple orbs. They all rushed the shinobi, who quickly dodged it all with speed that surprised Helen. She moved with the gracefulness of a dancer while keeping up with the Night Spray casting.
Malik soon made his appearance, the necromancer rushing out with a small dagger as he tried to stab at the stranger.
“Wait!” Helen shouted a warning as she stood up, her spear and shield raising as she rushed ahead. She caught both of the fighters off-guard, allowing Malik’s Night Spray to finally hit its target.
Multiple fireflies made contact with the shinobi woman, their magical flames setting her aflame as she tried to dodge them all. At the same time, Helen watched as Malik attempted a stab, his dagger aiming for the young woman’s throat.
Just as the sharp tip was about to make contact, the intruder disappeared. Vanished. Blinked out of existence. Helen blinked at the sudden change, her feet stopping her advance. She watched as Malik was hit with his own fireflies, his robes set aflame.
“Shit! Freezing Winds!” Malik quickly cast a spell, his surroundings being engulfed in a miniature cyclone of snowy winds. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to put out the flames and nearly freeze Helen’s toes off.
After the sudden change of events, the veteran stopped in place, her gaze moving around to search for the intruder.
“What…?”
Right behind her was the panting form of the shinobi, her only eye wide in shock and her left hand on her heaving chest. She looked shaken, her expression more of fear rather than surprise.
“I… I was hoping not to use that,” the young stranger muttered as she straightened herself. As she did so, Helen recognized the small cylindrical glass tube that was tucked into her satchel. She had stolen the eye, it seemed.
Helen also got a better view of the perpetrator now that her hood was down. It was a young woman with short auburn hair that swayed in the breeze. Nearly a third of her head and face were wrapped in white bandages, covering her left eye and upper cheek.
“Wait, I know you,” Helen muttered. This was the same girl she bumped into back in Yorktown. It seemed like her instincts were right to be suspicious of her.
“Yeah, I was hoping this would go over quietly,” the young woman said. She patted down her clothes, almost like she was making sure she still wasn’t on fire. “But you guys made this much harder than it had to be.”
Helen raised her shield, her spear wavering a bit as she contemplated on what to do. Should she negotiate? Attack? She wasn’t sure what the right course would be.
“Why are you here?” was the most obvious question. It had left her lips before she even decided on what to do.
“I’m here to correct some wrongs,” the shinobi answered. “And unfortunately, it seems like your Jarl has done a lot of wrongs.”
Helen was about to refute this but quickly stopped herself. It would be difficult to even begin defending her position, especially when she was standing next to a fucking necromancer and fighting for the protection of a demonic artifact that was bound to be worthy of a holy smite.
“Well, it’s a long story,” Helen muttered.
“I’m sure it is,” the young woman sighed. “But unfortunately, I’ve heard more than enough of my fair share of necessary evils. Especially from other Earthlings…”
“So I guess there’s no way to talk this out?” Helen asked. She already knew the answer to that question, but it was more or less time until more reinforcements came. Every second counted, after all.
“No,” the shinobi said simply, her knife rising. “I’ll do my best not to kill you. No promises.”
With that, the kasani assassin rushed the veteran and necromancer, her speed almost blinding.
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Dahlia ran through the forest with Seamus in tow, her dagger in hand. She would have preferred to grab a sword or a more formidable weapon, but time was of the essence. She and Seamus didn’t even have time to get any gear on, leaving them in their casual clothes with only bits and pieces of armor from whatever they could get their hands on.
Seamus had on a chainmail shirt and bracers from his short training session with the guardsmen. He also had a sword on him, already making him more prepared than Dahlia.
Dahlia herself only wore her gambeson, which she kept on at all times, her dagger being the only form of offense for now. She still had her spells—including a few new ones she had learned these past months—but she had no idea if they would be of any use against whoever had breached the mountain’s security.
She prayed to Freyja that it wasn’t Malik. The last thing she wanted was to fight that necromancer, especially if he had stolen the eye for himself. Then again, she hoped that it was Malik. If anyone else had managed to get past him and the guards alone, then they were in much bigger trouble.
“Stop!” Seamus called out just as they reached the base of the mountain. Dahlia skidded to a pause, her head swiveling to Seamus. He was standing a few meters behind her, his gaze shifting to the left and right. It was as if he was trying to figure out something. Dahlia looked back at the mountain, her focus on the peak.
She could still see the smoke that billowed from the passageway but couldn’t make out anything else. The only thing she was sure of was—
Clang!
Dahlia was snapped out of her stupor when Seamus swung at something, his sword hitting nothing but air. At least that’s what it looked like. The Shaman watched in shock as Seamus’ sword recoiled back from the thin air, which shimmered in response.
After a second, someone appeared out of nowhere, their cloak flapping in the breeze and wind as they skidded back from the strike. The stranger held up a long dagger, her single eye wide with surprise as she stared down Seamus.
“How were you…?” The person’s response would be cut short when Seamus rushed toward her, his sword moving for another swing. She reacted with another block, her dagger parrying the strike. While surprised, the stranger reacted accordingly and with precision. Seamus’ sword flew back from the counter, his eyes wide with surprise as the stranger rushed to finish him off.
“Push!” Dahlia shouted, her fingers forming the rune. Her spell came in a rush of wind, knocking the attacker back and throwing her a couple meters away. Despite the sudden push, the stranger regained balance in only a second, her left hand quickly flashing right after.
Dahlia felt her instincts flare with panic when she saw a knife flying towards her.
The Shaman did her best to dodge, the small knife barely clipping her right arm. As she did so, she failed to notice her opponent closing in on her. Right when it looked like Dahlia was about to get stabbed, Seamus came in with another swing of his sword.
The young woman seemed to expect this—a bit too fast, if anything—her feet planting themselves on the ground as her body shifted. The sword swing struck her awaiting dagger, emitting a shower of sparks from the contact of both blades.
“Got you,” the woman said as she parried Seamus, her dagger catching his sword’s guard. In a movement that was too fast for Dahlia to make out, the stranger sent the sword flying out of the young man’s hands.
Seamus was so stunned by the sudden turn of events that he didn’t even have time to react to the sudden follow-up that came right after when the woman’s left fist made contact with the underside of his jaw. He flew back from the hit, eyes rolling back.
It all happened so fast and suddenly that Dahlia didn’t even have time to take action—until now.
“Flare!”
Dahlia’s spell resulted in a blinding flash of light that engulfed the area. She had practiced enough with this casting that she would usually be able to navigate through the blinding flare without much trouble. The same shouldn’t be said about her opponents. Shouldn’t.
So Dahlia was more than a little surprised to see her opponent sprint toward her at full speed, her dagger raised for a stab.
‘Shit!’
Dahlia quickly raised her own dagger in defense, fear engulfing her heart as she expected the stranger to strike lethally. Instead, she was shocked to see the strange woman simply stab at the flare orb, her knife glowing with magical energy as it dispelled it.
“Windwa—”
Dahlia would not be able to finish her spell. In just a blink of an eye, the stranger had reached her. It was so fast, so sudden. Dahlia didn’t even see her move from her position. Yet now, here was her opponent, her open hand on the Shaman’s chest.
“Paralyze.”