Sweat streamed down Kyle's brow.
Whether it came from the suffocating heat or the instinctive tension locking every muscle in his body, he couldn't tell.
His gaze remained fixed on the inferno before him.
The sight stirred an old memory.
One buried deep within the sacred scriptures he had spent his entire life studying.
An endless sea of devouring flame.
A world without hope.
Where the wicked were cast to suffer for eternity.
The World of Cinders.
Kyle's pupils trembled.
'This...'
The flames reflected across his irises as Wesley slowly stepped through them, his distorted silhouette seeming almost inhuman.
'It looks just like the death world where sinners are condemned...'
His eyes settled on the man at its centre.
A figure wreathed in fire, smiling as though violence itself brought him joy.
Kyle unconsciously tightened his grip around his staff.
'And that...'
His breathing hitched.
'...looks just like Azrakar... the Ruling Eldrid of that world.'
For the first time since his childhood, the High Priest perceived a distant yet familiar concept.
That of danger.
"...So you were a Master, too?" Kyle asked carefully.
"Hah!" Wesley laughed. "The fact that you didn't realise means you're still green. Third-rate, am I correct?"
The priest's expression tightened.
He had been taught not to give away his level to his opponents, yet he had inadvertently done so easily.
"So what?" he retorted. "It makes no difference if you still can't hurt me."
"Right, right," Wesley chimed.
Then, in a burst far faster than anything he had displayed before, he lunged toward Kyle.
The barrier formed, but not nearly quickly enough to stop him. Instead, it wrapped tightly around his wrist at the last moment, slowing his strike just long enough for the young man to create distance and allow his battle priests to regroup around him.
The Dormese officer let loose an inhuman laugh, an animalistic grin stretching across his face as he pivoted and launched himself at them.
One of the battle priests stepped directly into his path, lowering his stance as white mana surged into the gauntlets around his fists.
He never got the chance to throw a punch.
Wesley's arm punched straight through his chest and hoisted him into the air as if he weighed nothing.
The priest stared down at the blazing man below him. Wesley's eyes gleamed with the unhinged delight of a child burning ants with matchsticks.
Still...
The clergyman endured.
Once Wesley let him go, the High Priest's miracle would restore him, no matter how catastrophic the injury.
"...Did you really think I'd let you scurry back again?" Wesley muttered.
Without granting him even a moment to react, flames erupted through the priest's body, reducing him to ash before a scream could escape.
Turning toward Kyle, the grin vanished.
What remained was a chilling calm.
He pointed at the scattering black in the air and water.
"Bring that back."
Kyle involuntarily staggered backwards.
"Don't let him reach me!" he barked, his previously measured gestures becoming visibly frantic. "Properly protect yourselves as well! If either you or I fall first... it's over for all of us!"
The remaining four battle priests moved without hesitation, immediately encircling Wesley as pure white aura engulfed their bodies.
The flame art user regarded them with open boredom, his muscles tensing in preparation for another explosive burst, but—
Thick chains suddenly coiled around his body, locking him in place.
"Hm?"
A fist crashed into his face.
Another slammed into his ribs.
A third struck the back of his neck before a fourth drove into his abdomen.
The priests didn't waste a moment in mobbing the immobilised man, unleashing a relentless barrage while they had the opportunity.
"Pardon me, High Priest," Lorraine called, leisurely making her way over to Kyle. "It looked like you could use a little assistance."
Kyle gave her a sideways glance, sizing her up in an instant and determining she posed no real threat to him strength-wise.
"And who are you?"
"Ah, right." Lorraine smiled, offering a mocking curtsey. "Lorraine. I don't possess the privilege of a last name."
The High Priest paid no mind to her mannerisms, orange formulas continuing to multiply around his staff.
Lorraine hummed thoughtfully before casually leaning against the short man, much to his visible discomfort as he wondered why his automatic defences hadn't activated.
"Dual casting, is it?" she mused, studying the intricate formulas. "One enhancement spell for your pitiful friends over there..."
Her eyes drifted toward the battle priests frantically raining blows upon an utterly unflinching Wesley before returning to Kyle. She lightly traced a finger along his chin.
"And the other... an attack spell."
Kyle frowned.
"Our great lord's miracles are nothing like your cheap tricks," he spat.
"Right..." Lorraine replied airily, closing her eyes for a moment before stepping away from him. "Forgive me."
She folded her arms.
"Here's the deal. We work together."
Kyle opened his mouth to refuse, only for Lorraine to raise a finger to his lips, silencing him before he could speak.
"The spell I used to hold him won't last long," she explained. "Once he breaks free, it will be over you. He won't let you slip out of his grasp again."
Her tone remained light.
"Such is to be expected from the captain of the Blood Fragrance Squad."
Kyle's eyes widened.
"That's him?!"
"You didn't know?"
She shook her head.
"Wesley Albrecht, Calamity Flower... they say that when he really gets going, he can level a mid-sized city with one attack."
Lorraine slowly raised one hand.
Grey circular formulas bloomed around her.
Jagged metallic harpoons condensed into existence before screaming toward Wesley.
Her casual smile vanished, and in its place remained only a cold, emotionless stare.
At the same time, the chains binding Wesley began bubbling. A heartbeat later, they broke apart into globules of molten metal. Without so much as shifting his stance, he raised two fingers toward the incoming projectiles.
Scarlet heat burst outward and the air warped violently.
Every harpoon twisted, softened, and sagged into glowing liquid before splashing harmlessly into the sea below.
'What's taking that fool so long?' Lorraine wondered. 'Arno Julius is strong... but even he can't survive underwater for this long.'
"Hmm?" Wesley muttered, taking notice of the additional presence beside Kyle.
He stamped a foot onto the sea.
The water instantly began to boil, then four pillars of flame erupted beneath the battle priests as they retreated, swallowing their positions whole.
Two managed to avoid incineration while the others weren't so lucky.
Wesley clicked his tongue, roughly ruffling his hair.
"Priest," Lorraine started, her tone darkening.
Kyle barely acknowledged her, refusing to take his eyes off Wesley for even a moment.
"Finish preparing your attack," she said, slipping her pipe away as obsidian-blue formulas spiralled into existence around her wrists. "It's mostly complete, isn't it? All that's left is the superficial work common to Divine magic."
"...Don't insult the miracles of Lord Vanguard."
"Is now the time?" she asked, already walking forward. "Ten minutes. That's all the time I can buy."
Kyle nodded.
"Sir Albrecht, what an honour it is to meet you," the Blood Witch said, expertly masking her intent.
Wesley's brow furrowed.
"You're the one that sent Julius away..."
Before she could blink, his forearm was already centimetres away from colliding with her throat.
In a display of astonishing control, a ribbon of deep-blue liquid materialised from thin air, wrapping around Wesley's waist and violently dragging him off course.
His strike just barely skimmed past her neck, the heat still leaving a faint burn across her skin.
Wesley twisted effortlessly through the air before planting himself atop the sea once more.
"...That wasn't very kind." Lorraine smiled, massaging her neck.
"Raw formation and manipulation of an attribute instead of a spell," Wesley muttered. "It seems you're worth taking note of."
"You want to scout me?" Lorraine tilted her head. "I'm flattered, but—"
"You interfered in my bout with Julius," Wesley interrupted flatly. "I'm annoyed, but since you're a fellow appreciator of true battle arts..."
Lorraine scowled, partially confused.
"I'll kill you less painfully than I intended."
Stepping forward, yellow mana leaked from his form.
Matching him, red mana flooded from her body, whipping her hair wildly.
Suddenly, the water went alarmingly still, and then a burst of indigo mana erupted from beneath the surface, swelling outward into a colossal dome that split the ocean apart and sent violent waves crashing toward every combatant.
Every head turned.
A lone figure slowly emerged from the heart of the phenomenon, dragging something behind him.
As the visual cleared up, Arno stepped onto the surface, completely drenched, calmly running a hand through his soaked hair.
Without looking, he tossed the shrivelled body trailing behind him toward Lorraine.
It landed with a splash as she just barely caught it.
'What?!' She stared down in disbelief. 'If Draymond looks like this... all of his innate mana arts have shut down...!'
Her eyes lifted back toward the lax figure, casually wringing seawater from his hair.
Absentmindedly, she took a step back.
"Julius!" Wesley roared, rocketing toward the baron with a feral grin.
Not even looking his way, Arno sidestepped, caught him by the scruff of his collar, and held him there.
Only then did he lazily scan the battlefield.
"...Why are they still standing?"
"What?"
Wesley struggled for a moment before Arno let go without warning, sending him stumbling unceremoniously across the water.
"I'm asking why the priests are still in fighting condition."
The Dormese captain huffed, looking away.
"I've killed them more times than I can count," he said irritably. "But the High Priest keeps bringing them back. I got rid of three of them... the other two slipped away."
Arno blinked.
Then groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Dumbass..." he muttered dryly. "They're from the main faith in Gyse—the Temple of Vanguard. He's an Eldrid of Combat, so as long as a priest's mana allows it, they can keep fighting forever."
"Hey!" Wesley snapped. "I was going to incapacitate the High Priest! He was just harder to damage than expected..."
He spat to the side.
"Besides, I kept getting interrupted."
The baron levelled an indescribable look at him.
"Right," he replied. "What a loser. Are you really proudly puffing your chest as a second-rate Master when you're this weak?"
Wesley froze.
His head snapped toward Arno.
"What...?"
Accurately judging another person's level became almost impossible once someone entered the realm of Experts. At best, those of higher level could vaguely estimate someone beneath them.
Masters complicated matters even further.
Their control over their power became so refined that they could deliberately conceal their strength.
But for those who had reached the peak of the Master Realm...
Or went beyond it...
They began to bear witness to the truth of the world, so such deceptions meant little to them.
'If he saw through me... that means...'
He shook his head, his teeth grinding in frustration.
'That's impossible! Just a year ago we were both Experts...'
Several metres away, Kyle and his remaining companions approached Lorraine, who still appeared tense, staring at the bickering men.
"I'm ready."
She glanced at him, reining in her nerves and exhaling.
"Do it then."
Kyle hesitated, looking in the direction Kern and the Vaudyrian woman were fighting.
"Your comrade will get caught up in it," he explained. "Only those within my immediate vicinity will be spared."
He averted his eyes, expecting her to respond with turmoil.
They didn't have the luxury of delaying so they could preserve all their allies. He himself had lost two brothers and a sister in the faith. He had sacrificed plenty, but he couldn't help feeling guilty asking the same of Lorraine.
"...Is that so?" she started quietly.
Kyle sighed, preparing to argue.
"Why bother telling me that?" she said, her face cold.
She looked at him as though he'd asked the dumbest question imaginable.
"Kill them already."
"...What?"
"You heard me."
Her expression never changed.
"Or have you gone deaf? We have no time."
Kyle's grip tightened around his holy staff until his knuckles whitened.
'...This woman...'
His eyes narrowed.
'...is evil.'
He walked forward and raised his priestly artifact, deciding to pass judgement on her after the main concerns were dealt with.
A vivid, pale-blue aurora spread across the sky as an unearthly presence flooded the region.
Instantly, Arno and Wesley looked upward, followed by everyone else as it soon became impossible to ignore what was happening.
All the fighting ceased.
In the centre of the shimmering lights, a singular point—reminiscent of a star—fluttered before ripping open, revealing a spear held by countless statuesque arms as it descended.
"Vanguard's Spear of Heaven..." Wesley stared with evident concern.
Evelyn landed beside Arno.
"My lord..."
The baron threw his head back, covering his face with his hand.
"I should've never become a mercenary... no, maybe I shouldn't have picked up a sword."
His fingers wrapped around Pestilence's hilt—
And pulled.
"...Then that guy would've never noticed me..."
It didn't matter now.
"Play time's over."
Indigo mana thinly veiled his form, and then—
Silence.
The sounds of the ocean, the wind, the irregular power above, and even the cries of panic from the people present were muted.
A pulse of darkness was emitted from the man and his sword as the obsidian-blue seals wrapped around it broke.
Unlike earlier, he succeeded in drawing the weapon in one seamless motion, revealing a brilliant double-edged blade.
It caught the blue light of the aurora above, further accentuating its beauty.
Then black smog poured from its surface, faint purple embers drifting lazily through the darkness.
"Pestilence... whose other name is Conquest..."
The silhouette of an unsettling, dark lion's mane appeared over his head.
His gaze settled upon the descending spear.
"...feed on the lifeblood of my enemies."
No one saw him move.
They only saw the aftermath.
A single swing.
The Spear of Heaven split cleanly down its centre.
And before either half could continue falling, the black smog and purple wisps swallowed them whole.
Arno spun his sword casually, looking away.
Crash
The miracle shattered.
Kyle's staff shook violently in his hands.
His face drained of colour.
"...Impossible."
Collectively, everyone who wasn't part of Arno's group held their breath.
Everyone except Wesley.
The Dormese captain stood frozen, a deep scowl carved into his face as his body trembled in anger.
"So..."
Baron Julius tilted his head, looking over the opposing groups.
His mana slowly flowed around him.
"Will you still fight?" he asked plainly. "Or will you leave?"
Sweat poured down Lorraine's body as a nervous smile played on her face.
'This is... Evil Mane... We never stood a chance.'
"You're letting them go?" Evelyn chimed.
Everyone snapped out of their thoughts, finally processing the meaning behind Arno's offer.
The woman frowned at him.
"You're always so half-assed," she continued, sighing. "Didn't you say you'd kill them?"
Arno gave her a concerned glance.
"...You want me to?"
"Of course not! I'm just saying your word looks less and less reliable with each day!"
He rested Pestilence on his shoulder.
"Well... I don't feel like it anymore," he drawled. "Frankly, I'm tired. I wasn't ordered to do any of this."
Suddenly, Wesley lunged at him and held him by his collar.
"Julius...!" His voice shook with a mix of disbelief and envy. "How did you—?!"
"That inefficient fighting style of yours guzzles up mana," Arno cut in. "You sure you want to waste power here when you could get ambushed on your way home?"
Wesley paused, then tightened his grip.
"Who said I'm leaving just yet, you bastar—?!"
"Do you mean it?" Lorraine asked, once again interrupting the Dormese man. "...You're leaving us alone just like that?"
Arno, still held by his collar, regarded her with blatant disinterest.
"Yeah, screw off."
He looked over at the pale Kyle, still in shock over what had transpired.
"Take him with you."
Lorraine faltered before nodding and moving to execute on his orders at a brisk pace.
She injected mana into her vocal cords.
"Runda!" she yelled across the distance.
Upon hearing her name, the brunette mercenary broke away from Kern in a blur of crimson mana and appeared beside Lorraine, Draymond and the clergymen.
Lorraine dropped the withered orange-haired man in her arms and, without a word, started walking away.
In her mind, they couldn't leave any sooner. The job they had taken had turned out to be well above their pay grade.
"You lot are so boring."
The words came out casual.
Yet the effect was immediate.
A pressure deeper than anything before descended upon the battlefield.
Every instinct screamed.
Even Arno and Wesley's expressions tightened as their eyes widened.
They frantically made to move, only to discover that they were surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of thin metallic threads.
Blood slowly trailed down Arno's neck.
A thin line formed across Wesley's brow.
Both men remained perfectly still, forced into absolute restraint.
'Who...?!' Arno strained his eyes upward, trying to make out the newcomers in the awkward position he was in. 'I didn't feel anything!'
Standing above them, balanced effortlessly upon the web of threads, were five cloaked figures.
Their garments a deep, unnatural black.
The sight alone sent a chill through Arno's spine because he instantly recognised who they were—or rather where they were from.
"Fuck!" he yelled, looking at Wesley. "Albrecht, it's them! The guys from that side!"
Wesley couldn't turn his head without risking losing it entirely, but the meaning was understood clearly. Immediately, flames erupted from his body, burning the threads surrounding them apart and allowing the two men to reposition.
They took their battle stances.
Back-to-back.
Ready to risk their lives.
The leader of the mysterious group vanished.
A moment later, he blinked into existence in front of the retreating group of mercenaries and priests.
"I'd forgotten how disappointing the average fleshlings of this world are."
His voice carried a depth of displeasure.
While utterly rattled with fear, Lorraine and company readied for combat, only for the man to disappear once more and reappear in front of Kyle, already gently cupping his face.
"If you intend to kill someone..."
He let out a laboured breath.
"...do so without hesitation."
A sickening crack echoed across the sea.