It was the hand that she remembered, the hand that she used to hold and stroke when her sister would feel down, hammered by the solitary of the orphans and the inequality of the world. Born unwanted, destined to remain weak, to remain feeble, such was the fate of Pallorn and her little sister, Tulin.

When her life was at its bleakest moment, away from the blink of no return, the Church of Redemption took her in. As compensation for her low birth, the world gifted her a talent of light, which she used to command the respect of her peers. From that spark of faith, she ascended through the filth and emerged a new person. In doing so, however, she gradually drifted away from her sister, who lacked all but naivety and innocence.

She still loved her sister, more so than everything else, but the workload took most of her time, the time which she used to spend with her sister. Though she massively improved their living condition, her sister, who never had the chance to enjoy it with her, never felt any happier.

The dream of eating and living well, once impossible, ingrained itself into Pallorn. She had lost sight of what mattered the most. No matter how hard she worked and how long she endured, she could not find contentment. All the wealth and fame meant nothing. Every time she questioned her decision, she always placed her hope in the next time, the next position, the next promotion. Things would get better. Happiness would come.

That day never arrived.

Unable to find happiness alone, she turned to her faith. The Goddess of Redemption promised contentment and satisfaction after death, the ultimate prize for those who offered their most sincere belief. Zealous gripped her mind; she decided to apply for a higher position and leave her small rural town to the great cities inside the kingdom.

When confronted by her sister, she remained relentless. Her scolding words broke their bond, and Tulin was left alone with the meaningless wealth and without a proper goodbye.

"I hope I never see you again," Tulin said and slammed the door shut.

"Likewise," Pallorn said and left.

The world listened. The Sinking consumed the town, and Tulin was never found.

When the news reached Pallorn, her anger dispersed like water dropping on the hot metal plate. The stream rose and met with her cold pale face and converted into lines of tears, which traced around her cheeks and soaked her hands. The lingering warmth from her sister's grasp quickly disappeared, replaced by the freezing grief that cleared her mind.

The wealth and fame she chased weren’t the end goal but a foundation. She desired them not for happiness but time, the time she then could spend with Tulin, who no longer existed. Left alone in the world, she placed her faith in the Goddess of Redemption for one last time. To have a chance to get her sister back, she became one of the Redeemers.

Now, that familiar pair of hands, that intimate voice, that petite silhouette, they came to her unexpectedly. She didn't try to block or dodge the Mud Girl, who touched her face and tainted it with the muds, slowly, softly stroking the chin.

"Who are you?" Pallorn said, her eyes narrowing.

"Does it hurt?" Tardi grinned. Though she was considerably shorter than Pallorn, she appeared calmer than her sister, who visibly trembled.

"How long have you been here? Why haven’t you contacted me?"

Tardi pulled back her muddy arm and looked at it attentively. It was soft and viscous and melting, not like the Pure Races’.

"Pallorn, I've found where I belong. The human doesn't accept me anymore, and neither did you."

"I was wrong. I would never—"

As Tardi and Pallorn were talking, Senan threw three torn scrolls at the battle and crushed a recovery potion in his hand. The bottle shattered into dust particles, which glowed and dissipated into magical energy. It diffused into the air, where the torn scrolls greedily devoured it and activated their functions.

The pages split into countless shreds, some burning, some freezing. The blue coldness and the red flame ruptured from the formations and manifested as a vortex of dual power. With a crystal core at the middle, the frost-flame vortex rushed towards Varda, who had been watching Tardi.

Sensing the danger, Varda conjured an array of green light. It swelled and created a net of tangled vines, which lashed out and whipped the vortex, crashing against its shredding wind pressure. The impact sent countless barbs flying in all directions. The strayed impact headed towards Pallorn and Tardi. Unable to continue their conversation, they retreated from one another, their eyes inviting their sister.

Tardi landed beside Varda, and Pallorn retreated to Senan. Both didn't wish to leave their friends and family behind.

Looking at Tardi's smile, Varda couldn't help but feel excited.

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"How was it?" she asked. "Is it painful?"

Tardi looked at the hand which stroked her sister's face. The warmth of her body still lingered on it.

"I'm happy, more than ever."

"I think she doesn't want to come with us."

"If she doesn't want to, I'll make her. You must help me like promised."

"I'll delay the old man and the group behind her. You can have your quality time uninterrupted." Varda licked her lips. "Make her fall. We'll surprise Iris with a new member."

On the opposite of the battlefield, Pallorn narrowed her eyes as she watched Tardi carelessly conversed with Varda. Though she had found her sister, her sister had changed drastically. There was only one way to bring her back, purification, the holy art she practised her whole life, just for this moment.

"Senan, a change of plan. You and the rest will delay the Snake Girl. I'll take care of the Mud Girl myself," she said, not leaving any room for negotiation. "It'll be quick. I'll purify her and take her to safety."

"If you say so. Don't get too distracted." Senan glanced at Pallorn and noticed her strange expression. Though he didn't know why she stopped dead in her track previously, he could conclude that something unexpected had happened. "Remember your words."

"No need to worry. I won't risk anyone's life."

Pallorn closed her eyes, inhaled, and hardened her resolve. She tightly gripped the sword's handle and sprinted toward Tardi, who smiled and strolled away from Varda, stepping to the side where only her sister and she would engage in the fight.

Watching the sisters went off, Varda shook her head and focused her gaze on Senan and the group of followers. Unlike Pallorn, they gradually crept forward, slowly circling Varda, standing outside her comfortable reach. Their careful approach formed an arch with her as the centre, aiming to corner then exhaust her with a battle of attrition.

"You human call us wicked and cruel then use such method to kill us. If this is not hypocrisy, then what is?" Varda said, tapping her moist lips.

Senan frowned and raised his hands, signalling the followers to prepare their spells. They quietly chanted and created countless fireballs. They hovered above their casters, quivering in anticipation of the fire command.

"If you surrender now, I'll let you live. My lab needs an assistant."

"An old man like you can't satisfy me. I would rather go with these young men than getting stuck in a dusty old tower."

"You were once a mage, right? We can work together. I can grant you safety from the believers, and you can help me further my knowledge. Is mutual benefits not the greatest contract?"

Varda laughed before her hands could move to conceal her unsightly manner. Her eyes mocked Senan as they judged his shoddy appearance and his reliance on magical scrolls. A wise mage would never join hand with the deities. Doing so would defeat the purpose of being a mage, to pursue the truth and power unchained by divinity.

"This is why you haven't advanced. Your mindset is too weak. You are a disgrace to the traditional mages," Varda said, her eyes gleaming darkly, her voice sounding lower. "As a mage, I'm already stronger than you."

"Then let us see how strong you really are," Senan said and swung his hand down.

The followers shouted their words, releasing the sea of colourful spells in a barrage of sparks. They swelled as they rushed through the air, producing a searing noise, which echoed ceaselessly, heating the vapours into foggy streams.

Facing the rain of fire, Varda marvelled at the majestic sight, her expression still relaxed. Despite the great benefits of the holy power, it was the power of the deities, in the end. The followers merely lent their strength, and with that came the lack of control and experience. These spells looked majestic, but their inside was hollow.

"I'll show you what a real mage is," she said and blew a wisp of pale mist.

It faintly glowed and swirled around, diffusing into the surrounding as it drifted toward the fireballs. Its patterns merged and broke into more spirals, which twisted and formed countless rings, where faint magical energy converged and formed a thin layer of membrane, a formation bubble.

As the fireballs flew through the ever-expanding mist, they pushed the magical bubbles and stretched them until they broke from the rings. These membranes flung backwards, covering the fireballs. Heated by the flame, they ruptured into pieces, which consumed the fire and froze the magical energy that fueled the combustion.

Without their fuel, the fireballs quickly fizzled out into a puff of smoke. A sea of fire instantly imploded into a sea of black mist without Varda even chanting a single word. Such was the precise control a mage commanded over magic, the prestige of the strong.

Senan immediately took out a few scrolls and tore them into pieces, letting the tiny pages drift aimlessly in the air. The magical formations on them activated and generated a gale that clashed with the smoke. The wind blew the mist a few holes, revealing the scenery behind for a moment before collapsing back in.

In that split second, Varda closed her eyes, held her hand in front of her, and clenched her fist. A magical formation manifested under her body and expanded to cover the surrounding. It exuded green light and grew multiple vines and flowers along the cave, coating it with nature. Remembering the move Vilia's use, Varda imitated the process and reshaped the soils into a marsh.

Panicking, the followers rapidly cast their spells and generated countless more fireballs, ice lances, lightning bolts, then released them into the smoke. Their power scattered and nullified one another, leaving only a few that got through. Without a proper target to lock on, they could only guess what was behind the curtain.

"Stop!" Senan shouted. His voice thundered around the forest, freezing the followers. Though he usually maintained his aloof attitude, Varda had hurt his pride as a mage, and with the lacklustre performance of the followers, his anger burst out. "Reorganise the formation and wait for—"

Through the smoke, multiple streaks of green light flashed and charged out. The electrifying green vines shot towards Senan, twisting seemingly randomly yet avoiding most of the spells. The electricity revolving around them whipped at the air and screeched into the surrounding, frying anything that came close.

They moved too fast for the followers to cast their protection. The sparks exploded forth and shocked the priests until their skins turned charred and they collapsed on the ground, paralysed and in agony. Their muffled wails dispersed in the air, leaving Senan who narrowly avoided the same fate in fear.

If he didn't carry a protective amulet with him, his life would have been in danger. He held his breath and glanced at the smokescreen. It gradually parted and revealed Varda, who remained in the same place, watching with amusement the destruction she had caused.

"Unfortunately, I won't let you live even if you surrender," she said.