Phoebe looked around her, at the dimly lit cavern that had been restyled as a hideout. A hideout for a dark guild which had recently gained some infamy. The members of said guild now surrounded her, armed and ready; the feeling of magic being charged in the air was thick and palpable, and being intimately familiar with this feeling, she was aware that her - admittedly feeble - attempts at negotiation had broken down, and a fight would inevitably break out soon.

Jacobii Flesh-eaters, the dark guild in question, and numbering in over forty members of mixed magical ability, was a dark guild that, while relatively a non-threat compared to other, more infamous dark guilds, had drawn attention to itself through various acts of atrocities, the most well-known of which was its members disturbing practice of devouring human flesh in order to fuel their more obscene magic abilities, from which its name was derived.

If that weren't enough, they were known to have practiced human sacrifice on a practically monthly basis. At first, reports had chalked it off as another of their demented rituals - only to later recoil in fear and panic as they discovered that it was indeed a "ritual"; an actual magical formula designed to achieve results normal spells could never attain.

The specific aim for this ritual was what brought her here. After all, she could never condone the summoning of demons, regardless if one's intentions were benevolent or not. The fact that it was the latter simply made it so much easier for her.

"So," she muttered, her normally subdued voice amplified by the deathly quiet that filled the cavern, in spite of the sheer number of people surrounding her, "am I to take that as a 'no'?"

"KILL HER!"

And so to battle.

The Jacobii Flesh-eaters were actually somewhat impressive, she observed. For a minor dark guild, they had an adequate amount of resources, a not insignificant number of members, some of which were actually mages of skill, and their guild leader was skilled in coordinating his guild members, making them an effective fighting force rather than a ragtag bunch of bandits with magic - an actual guild, so to speak. That there was over forty of them warranted this mission an A-class label, as well as a recommendation to do this as a party. In someways, that she had come here alone would have been considered reckless, a bit foolish even. Even a party of A-class mages would have trouble with this many opponents. In the normal course of events, she would have been swarmed and defeated after bitterly struggling against them.

But for all her faults and glaring deficiencies, for all that there were many that whispered behind her back and doubted, one thing remained true:

She was an S-class mage for a reason.

The members of Jacobii paused and blinked in confusion, as the little girl that had suddenly waltzed into the middle of their hideout and demanded their unconditional surrender disappeared. There was no flash of light, no magic that they could see, and yet, the girl was no longer there.

"Come."

Turning around, their eyes collectively widened as they saw her standing idly, arms relaxed at her side, and with a bored expression. What truly caught their attention, however, was the array of floating spears of light arranged menacingly behind her. The light from those javelins eclipsed the light of the torches arranged across the walls of cavern, and blinded several of them.

Before any of them could comprehend what was happening, the spears fell.

It was a one-sided battle. No matter what spells and curses they threw at the girl, she remained unaffected, somehow dodging each and every one, while hurtling towards them an unending barrage of light. Their numbers dwindled quickly, and soon, there was only one was left standing.

"M-monster!" cried the last member of Jacobii, their guild leader, an B-ranked mage by the name of Jacob Imber. In utter desperation, he opened his mouth, and from it, a blackened hand pulsing with malicious energy shot towards Phoebe, aiming to grip her neck. To his utter astonishment, the hand went straight through the girl, passing through her neck and embedding itself in the wall behind her. "H-how?!"

"I'm sorry if I deceived you."

A familiar voice from behind him made his heart skip a beat, and he turned pale as he slowly turned around to face the one that spoke.

There stood another Phoebe, just as relaxed and apathetic looking as the one in front of him. His mind reeled as he realized the implications. All this time, he and his comrades had been aiming their spells at an illusion, when the real mage was-!

His thoughts cut off as another spear of light impaled him through the stomach.

The cavern was silent, and the only sound that could be heard was his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. Phoebe walked forwards, stepping over the collapsed bodies of the dark guild, making her way towards a room in the back of the cavern. Blasting the locked door apart without preamble, she stepped inside, and spotted her prize.

A book on demon summoning. Where and how they procured it where secondary concerns; right now, she had a more pressing matter to attend to.

Another spear shot towards the book, immolating it completely. Phoebe watched it burn, her face expressionless.

Her job done, she took out the communications lacrima in her satchel. "I'm finished. Send someone to arrest the survivors," she said. With that done, she made way to exit the cavern.

With the way it was situated near the top of a cliff, Phoebe had a good vantage point. She should return to the guild soon, and report her success to the master. The guild was about twenty-seven kilometers from here. It shouldn't take too long then . . .

---

Phoebe stepped out of her room, having just recently returned and after taking a shower and changing. It was noisy outside; she wasn't surprised. If she recalled correctly, then today was the inauguration of Golem Hand's new guild master, so of course there'd be festivities. That even members of Harpy's Wing have taken part in them was somewhat surprising, but also completely expected - from what little she'd seen of her fellow guild mates, there were few among them that would remiss the chance to partake in celebrations of any kind, and she was sure the members of Golem's Hand would be loathe to taint this momentous occasion with petty fights.

She made her way downstairs, where a handful of her guild mates were merry making. There was fewer of them than normal, but she supposed that most of them were enjoying the festival outside.

Having already submitted her report to the guild master, she had nothing else to do. At this point, she would usually settle inside her room or somewhere isolated outside and pass the day away with a book in her hands, but there was a festival going on. In either case, she wouldn't be able to relax, unless she put some serious effort into isolating herself, and putting that much effort into so petty a task was demeaning even for her. It seemed she had no other choice but to go outside in the meantime. Perhaps a snack - she was a bit peckish after that job.

Phoebe donned a pure white cloak and threw the hood over her head, stepping outside of the guild and weaving her way through the crowd of merrymakers, ultimately going where her legs took her. It was fortunate that so few people were aware of her status as a Harpy's Wing member, much less that of her status as an S-rank mage; it meant that she wouldn't be bothered as much by the members of Golem's Hand, and she'd rather not trouble Master Anwen by getting into a fight.

Some time later, she happened across a stall selling glazed donuts. It appeared they were almost out, she mused. Deciding that donuts were a good a snack as any, Phoebe purchased the last ones remaining.

Making her way through the crowd once again, this time while nibbling on a glazed donut. A small crowd of kids playing ball swept passed her with a cry of "Hey it's Xerath!", and before she knew it, she was ushered alongside them in a dizzying rush. In her attempts to avoid tripping up the kids, Phoebe wasn't aware of how close she had come to a certain someone named Kitala, until she bumped into her, strong enough to knock the donuts out of her hands.

"Ah . . ." she stared at the glazed treat the other girl had bought, now resting solemnly on the ground.

In the normal course of events, Phoebe would have apologized, and tried to make amends. She would have bowed her head, said her sorry's, and perhaps offer her up a donut of her own to placate the other girl. In the normal course of events, Phoebe would have stayed apathetic throughout this interaction, and let it pass on without incident.

Of course, in the normal course of events, she would never had been called a "demon".

She'd been give a myriad of appellations throughout her tenure as a member of Harpy's Wing, and not all of them were flattering. She'd been called "monster", "princess", "shut-in", "stuck-up" - but never demon. There were lines, after all, that her guild mates knew not to cross, especially when crossing that line involved getting struck by a spear of light sharpened to the point of deadliness - a consequence that many of her guild mates were there to witness.

But the other girl standing before her was not privy to that little fact, and so stepped on that particular landmine with all the grace and deftness of an angry elephant.

She opened her mouth, ready to have words with the girl, before hesitating. Was starting a fight here really the best course of action? What was the point in getting worked up over such a petty squabble, over a donut of all things?

Once again, Phoebe made ready to back down from the fight, when Kitala threw the hood off her head, glaring at her straight in the eyes with an imperious look she just couldn't ignore now. Very well, the velvet gloves were off.

"I'm sorry . . ." Phoebe began, "that you feel the need to act like such a petulant child." She finished, her voice barely rising above the soft volume it started with, but undoubtedly with increasing venom.