Barracker felt that he, Zell and the rangers had been doing their part in synergy and skillfully taking care of the opposing skeletons and wraiths. Hopefully this would allow more freedom for James and Adam to cast their spells and stay out of danger. He glanced over at the main double doors of the ritual chamber and saw that Adam had not yet found time to barricade them, but there was a lot to do so hopefully he would find the time before reinforcements came.

"Guys! Seek the phylactery, it will be a bitch killing him without destroy-!" Barracker commended his leader’s reaction in blocking the blinding ray, but then realised what he was trying to say.

A phylactery, of course, he is. The necromancer was actually a lich, which was far more dangerous.

"Search the cabinets at the back of the room and destroy its phylactery!" The Cleric once more shouted across the battlefield.

“Affirmative captain,” the Paladin gave a nod and understood what he was looking for. He had seen an empty phylactery in the Main Capital City’s museum browsing the old relics from the Mythic age. Barracker spotted the cabinets he was looking for across the battlefield. “Zell, hold the line”.

He was about to be off but saw Fenna needed assistance. As the sword strike was coming down he rushed over to save his friend and met the blade of blinding light with his claymore, just in reach due to the length of his weapon. A sudden rush of pain shivered through his body, another broken whistling sound coursed through the air. Barracker felt weak to fully block the swinging strike, so he managed to angle the sword away, guiding the blow from landing on Fenna. Once the wraith missed, the Paladin shoved his sword through the wraith's stomach and drew the rest of his strength to cut the wraith, near in half. The necrotic damage lit his muscles on fire, his stomach churned feeling the need to vomit. Barracker flung his mask off, chucking up a large puddle of blood, staining the floor and his chin.

“Fenna, are you alright.” he croaked as he recovered. The vampire was then torn between wraiths popping up from behind where James and Adam where positioned and reinforcements through the main doors. “Looks like we have company,” he offered a hand to Fenna to pull her up to her feet. Then rushed to support James and Adam’s position.

Barracker fought and killed two wraiths, doing his best to ignore the pain still making its presence known from head to toe.

Every clash of swords sent a spike of pain through his shoulder, but at this point it was just fuel to the fire of urgency that Zell was fighting with. His ears felt assaulted by the loud alarm blaring through the temple. His vision was filled with dangerously sharp steel. But his mind remained fairly focused, his thoughts keen and precisely positioned on their mission objective.



He could hear Lucy Bottrill's voice loud and clear - see her confident and cocky expression. He smirked as he recalled it, turning a parry into a stiff shoulder-barge to shove the skelly he was fighting backwards far enough to give him time to avoid the wraith pestering him.

Barracker's claymore suddenly appeared above the wraith, promptly coming down and cleaving the ghost asunder.

"Cheers bruv," he nodded to the vampire, giving him a pat on the arm, before slipping past him to counter the skeleton sneaking up from behind the man. Barracker swiftly took over Zell's previous opponent, along with another skelly that had zoned in on their position, and once more they were in seperate action - Seperate, but effectively forming a solid frontline shield with the help of Fenna and MacKensie. The teamwork of Second Chance had quickly become elite, since they became The Heroes from the Sky, and now Barracker was fitting in perfectly.

"Guys! Seek the phylactery, it will be a bitch killing him without destroy-!"

Zell glanced over his shoulder to see James had paused his orders out of necessity, then once the Cleric had a chance to finish what he was saying, Zell could only respond with. "What the hell is a phylactery!?"

Fortunately Barracker seemed to know it was as he responded to James. “Zell, hold the line”.

"I gotcha pal," Zell assured, turning his attention to some remaining skeletons.

A giant oak suddenly flew into the picture and crushed his prospective opponents though, causing him to glance over his shoulder at Adam. The Druid was once again throwing trees about the place. It would've been welcome had Adam picked one of the thousand things to do other than attack the skeletons - something that the frontline were handling perfectly fine.

"Adam, the doors!" the Englishman shouted, nodding pointedly at the main entrance to the ritual chamber. He seemed to remember Adam volunteering to set up a barricade, which was a clever plan, (and would definitely be worthwhile, seeing as an alarm was alerting potential reinforcements,) but for some reason he'd chosen not to go through with it.

With Barracker forced to delay going after the phylactery to provide emergency assistance on Fenna's side of the frontline, Zell found himself looking to fill in for the paladin, but when he saw the cabinets in question, right on the other side of the room and protected by some kind of energy shield, Zell was annoyed to find himself lacking. This temple had not been kind to those who did not possess magical attacks, and the feeling of inadequacy was something Zell was not familiar nor happy with. "F-fuck's sake." And then his mood worsened when more enemies did indeed answer the alarm and come through the main doors to join the fray. "Oh, bloody hell!

Well... at least the enemies were flesh and bone, which meant Zell could actually be of use. And besides: "If you want something done right..."

Zell started running across the battlefield towards the main doors, forced to duck under the Dark Beam that almost took his head off, and then forced to shield the back of his head from exploding debris from the tree that had been used to block said Dark Beam. But he continued to run, slowing slightly as came into contact with one of the spearmen. He slipped the opponent's thrust and threw a punch with his free hand, smacking the man in the face and then running right past him. The next spearman in the gauntlet met him on his sword-side and exchanged some parries as they circled eachother a little. Spearmen were notoriously bad against swordsmen though, and once Zell found a way to get inside his opponents guard, he delivered an upwards strike that cut deep enough to kill, dropping the spearman rather quickly.

The other two reinforcements had made their way to protect the Greater Wraith, giving Zell an open line to the doors, which he took expediantly. A quick look around and he sighted a nearby pew, ran to it, sheathed his sword and lifted one side of the long bench to begin dragging it to the doorway. "Ugh, fuck," the swordsman moaned loudly as he moved the heavy furniture. It was doing a number on his wounded shoulder. His swear words shifted gears when he saw the first spearman that he'd punched in the face, charging towards him. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Zell used the thick wood of the pew to block the cultist's attack, the spear getting stuck in the wood, giving Zell a chance to drop the pew and jump over it, kicking the cultist away as he did. Now the cultist was without his spear and Zell made short work of him, before getting back to work - pulling the pew in front of the double-door entrance to form a barricade. He pulled the spear free and slotted it through the handles of the doors to provide extra sturdiness, then lifted the pew and lodged it behind the statue next to the entrance, finishing the barricade. Zell sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow, a quick check of his handiwork before drawing his sword and running back to battle.

Not realising that Adam had destroyed the magic barrier protecting the cabinet and the phylactery, Zell did not make a break for the cabinet as he should have. Instead the engaged the cultists who were defending the Greater Wraith, hoping to open a path for one of the magic users to attack the Greater Wraith. Zell ran and lept into a superman-punch style stabbing attack on the cultist swordsman, continuing with a fake-high-swing-low sweep, then pressed the woman into sustained combat that would draw her attention away from her Lord of Darkness.

When the ghostly blade hit Fenna screamed in pain. It felt like red hot and ice cold at the same time and she fell to her knees. Suddenly Barracker was next to her and she saw the blade land by her side... With his help she got up, trembling on her legs, but she nodded when he asked if she was alright. She held her stomach as she tried to battle the nauseous feeling and the necrotic damage made her dizzy. It took a moment to shake it off.

Sil let out a loud screech when the human cultists entered the room, distracting them for a moment as they first tried to find out what had startled them and then take in the fact there was a falcon inside, giving Zell an advantage as he engaged in battle with them.

Barracked left and Fenna watched him go, finally feeling able to take in the situation around her. Even more cultists and wraiths. "Klerezooi," she muttered. Barracker couldn't handle all the wraits by himself, and they needed the phylactery, and the great wraith was still doing something that felt ominous. Zell moved through the room like a lightning bolt and his next target were the cultist who protected the great wraith. That was an opening she couldn't pass. "Sil! Attack them!"

It became a common sight, Sil battling where Zell was, joining him in the attack on the two cultists. With Zell focussing on the swordswoman, Sil avoided the spear of the other cultist and attacked his face with her talons.

A clear path, Fenna readied her spear and moved forward, but she didn't have to go in all the way. The spear that was kept short most of the time elongated as she went towards the greater wraith to pierce him with the oil-soaked tip and, if all went well, pull the spear tip up to leave a mortal wound.

Multiple pieces were moving in different tempos, friends, and foes attacked, dodged, parried, and acted in a great dance to some unsung ballad, where he half the strategist that some believed him to be then he would have been the conductor, careful guiding the orchestra with his magic, playing with puppets to his hearth desire and ensuring a quick and painless victory for himself and his friends.

“Are you okay, James? What do you need?”

"If I pass out you better catch me"

He was not the conductor, he was the asshole about to arm his team of dancers with swords.

He made sure to scream the words at the top of his lungs so his allies were not startled by the blessing.

"I beseech thee, Mother Iris, thou who are radiant and wise, ruler of the skies and bearer of the sun, Guide us with thy luminous light's gentle sway so that in thy name victory may be attained "

The effect was instantaneous, across the room his companion's weapons erupted in holy fire, the only exception being the anchor in his back which was covered in a layer of frost instead, and Adam who had to select a weapon for it to be effective.

His breath grew labored and he had to take support on the wood stick as he beheld the sudden fire covering parts of the room, he had known what the blessing did the moment he received it, standing before it he could tell that it was powerful, and order of magnitude stronger than any he had cast before, if his instincts were right it could be even cast as soon as it was finished, the only downside was the heavy price to pay for it and...

...he burned, he had rushed into the house desperate to help, to do something so he searched from room to room, after a couple of minutes he got lucky enough to come across the inhabitants trapped inside a bedroom, he had brought his uncle's crowbar just in case but it came in handy, opening the door and allowing them to escape. Sadly his luck ran out just as the goal was in sight. He remembered he had chosen to take the rear in case anything happened, he should have just scoped one of the kids and run away.

Instead he got to see how others crossed the threshold to safety while he remained behind, trapped under a fallen beam. To their credit they tried to help but it was no use, he had to scream at them for them to get the message that a single death was better than four.

The next minutes were agony.

F̷̡̡̡̗͈̬̥̫̝̹̠̳̗͙͉̞͎͒̂͆͑̌͆͆̈́̈́̐̓̉̿̿́͐̔̂̑̏́̔͒̏̕Į̷̲̳͙͕̗̮̣͗͐̓̅̿̋́̊̐̄̆̐̽̔͝ͅR̴̤̱͕͐͂̃̚È̸̢̡̛̛̛̠̟̤̭̩̖̺̯̭̥̲̠̭̹̣͔̝̪̄̔̈͗̓́͛̃̀̾̀͒̅̎̊́̒̈́̔̑͘͝ͅͅh̶̢̧̧̡̨̺͔̼̺̪͔̬̘̗͈͉̙̪̺̮̆̐͂̎̐̈́̊̈̕͘̕͝͠ḙ̴̢̢̡̛̛̛̪͉͈͔̟͔̙̜̜͔͇̟̘͎̺̲̬̮̹͙̹̼̎̀͒̆̈̐̄̈́͌̉͗̎̈̒̾̌͗̇̾̒̚͘͜͝͝l̴̰͖͇̙̬̜̦̘̦͙͔͂̈́̈̀̊͑̐̈̾̉̈́͝p̴̡̨̖̼͔͖̳͙̼͍̬͓̌̑̌̅̐̚!̸͉͕̻̆́͐̏͑̏̽͊̇̎̀̆̿͑̋̒̈́̚̚͘͝͠F̴̗͚̫̻̰͓̻̞͓̼̫͎͉̬͈̩͚̟̰̬̝͗͜͜L̵̢̀͆̂̃̍̓̓͛͒͒̕Á̷̡̱̹̓M̵̯̭̜̪̩̗͊̀̈́̍̂́̊́́̀E̸̛̜̰̱͚͎̎̅͋͛̒͐̂́͊̄̉̅̽̒͌̆͛̾̅̃͘͠S̶̢̬̜͙̰͙̜̫̞̹̹̘̤̣̓̉ͅt̶̨̛̝͇̯̥̖͚͔̯̖̦͇̊̇͋̌̏̿̆̈̅͗͗̏͛̈͌̈̾̈͊͘̚̚͘͜͜͝ͅḧ̷͖̹̻̦̼̦͉͇̯͓̪͎͈͈̺͚͓̟̹͕̪͕́̎̓͊̇͐̍̈̒̃͜͝ͅứ̶̼̃͒̏͑͆͐̅͗̇̾̋̅̍̉͊̿̍͋̇͝ř̸͓̔̿̈́͑͝͝t̷̟̱͗̌̃̽͌̄̊̑͊́̈́̾̚!̷̨̨̹̗͕̟̯̪͖̩̻̘̬͕͇̦̱̑̈́̀̇̀̍̅͆͝P̷̧̛̟̖̦̲̟̼͈̱͎̖͚̯̱͌̒̉̂̈́̊͛̂͑̊̚͠Ą̷̨̡̨̩͈̝̰̠̬͈͉̖̮͚̰̤͇̣͇̦̳͍̜̥̍̈̍̈̕Ì̷̢̢̨̻͈̣̻͉̭̼͉͉̬̠̄̈́́̐̈́̊͊̋̌̈́͘͝N̵̢̖͚̠͕͓̰͇͓̞̗̟̗͚̖̖̔̈́͜a̸̡̧̛͚̮̖̦͈͕̗̭͔̗̱̲͇̱̎̀̀̿͗̓́͠ņ̴̧̗̺̗͋̆́̀̊͑͊́̿͗̈́͛̉͛͐̽̐̇̓̽̌̈́̕y̷̢̡̘̜̞͙̼̰̱̟̼̟̱͖̺̹̩̞̟̼̬̒́̓̌̅͑̑͘͜ͅo̵̡̤͚̩̹͓̹͈̪̱̤͍̹͙̳͈̜͂̀̍͂̽̔̀̀͜͝͝ͅn̴̛̳̪̣͌͑͐̉͑̽̑̄͐̃͒̈̆̀͌̈́̓̉̾̀̾̕̚͠ę̷̢̰͓̹̩̹͕̥̫̩͇̤̯̳̫͙͒!̶̡̮̖̪̺̞͓̲̻́̔̎̀ͅḞ̵̜̐̐͗͛I̴̖̙͓͉̝̲̝̋̽̍̽̄͌́̇̎͛͑͂̍̎̌͗̒̑̇̍̌̃̈̇̚͝͠R̵̢̗̦̞̼͉͈̲͎̜̭͑Ę̵̨̛̛̛̪̦͇̜̞̯͇̮̳͈̤̫̤͉̟̱͛͂̐͋̈́̀̉̑̿̂̊́̋̏̏̿̓͘͘͠͠͠͝ͅͅͅḧ̷̛̬̞͎̩͚̱́̐͋̊͆͛́͐̋̐̚͜ͅë̸̡͕͙̗̳̬͚̳̯̰̞̥̤̘̞͕͖̮̯͈̞̳́̐͌̉͗́͌̈͂͆̓̔̈̀̽̈̿̽͑̄́̚͘̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅb̵̧̢̮̲̘̫͚̪̻̗̳͙͕̮̙͍͍̖̀̀̔̈́̈́̍̒̐͛͜͠ų̶̛̫̺͔̳̯̱̣̙̯̠̿̐͂̐̔̓̆̾̈̐̐̀͐̓̾̚̕͝r̸̛̝̬̙̮̞̣͍̠̭̼̖̲̠̥̟̘͉̖̂̆̅̂̈́̇̀n̴̨͑͂̊͑̒̓͗͋̐̉͆̄̒̿̈́̀͂͘͘͝e̴̻̘̫̭̬͉̳͈̠̺̯̬̖͓͎͎̩͐̑̂̈ͅͅd̶̮̹̰͚̱͓̦͈̭̲͈͖̫̦͙̯͛͜!̷̨̧͍͙̬̻͓̞͚̘̥͎̙̭̤̠͚̣̻̰̫̮̆̊̀̌̈̋̐͜͝B̵̨̢̞̹͙͖̮͙̱̠̭̼͈̰̺͙̖̘̺̫̻̯͖̀̾̐̌͂̿͂̀͘͜͜͜U̷̢̨̙̙̬̫̤̖͈͔̲͖̼̠͇̙̤͉̳̗̭̞̦͓̞͊͌̉̿̈́͊͂̿̀̃͜Ŕ̸̡̧̡̞̘̯̳̩̺͙̠̳̩̙͖̪̘̟Ņ̶̛̛̯̳̳̻̣̺̤̤̹̤̩̯̳̝̲̞̹̙͈̳̒̂͆̇̉̎̀͒̀̋́̊͂̂͛̾̉͌͆͒́͐͠͝͠S̴̢̛͓͓̻̪̬̣̭̫̥͉͇̀̀̀̀̓́̓̋̅̈́̿̑̿̈

The cold feeling of his anchor snapped him for a moment but he could still feel the FLAMES! memories scratching at his brain. Still, he had one last thing to do. Clutching his wooden cane as a lifeline he focused on the cabinets at the end of the room, where once was a barrier there was nothing, his little IT BURNS! episode distracting him from noticing who cracked it open, the result was the same, a vulnerability that could be exploited, and he knew just the person for the job.

"Mac! The phylactery should be a vessel! A locket, a skull, a fucking vase, as long as it is meant to contain something it can be the phylactery!" His attention switched to the Druid (who thankfully didn't have a burning weapon) by his side "Adam, you are our best crowd control if you can fuck with them do it"

Now all that was left was to shoot Light Beams to the Listener until it was dead. He pointedly ignored the FLAMES as much as he could, he just knew that if he got close to one of them he would lose it.

There was no time for MacKensie to show her gratitude to Fenna for dealing with the wraith that was on her. What came next was a horrifying parcel of time where the entire battle seemed to zone out - sight and sound - completely. Fenna was struck by another wraith and screamed. MacKensie's mouth was agape in helpless terror. Sil sqwauked as she hovered about. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. As Fenna was brought to her knees, MacKensie's half-stepped forward but froze. She couldn't touch the wraith! She had no magic with which to save her friend.

"Oh my god," she breathed frantically. The wraith raised it's sword, charging a powerful attack. And then MacKensie found her voice. "Somebody help!"

And that's when a steel blade flashed into place, right at the last second to block the wraith's glowing strike. The strange sound of the clash of ghost-blade on oiled steel whiffed through the air, bringing the entire battle around MacKensie back into her senses - sights and sounds - once more. As she tried to catch her breath, she looked along the steel blade until she saw the hands that wielded it.

"Barracker."

Finally able to move again, MacKensie jumped over Fenna and dealt with the skeleton she'd had in a chinlock earlier. Then she turned back around to see the Paladin pulling Fenna up to her feet. Both had taken some damage after that, but MacKensie was just glad that Fenna was alive. Barracker rushed off to help Adam and James with even more wraiths that had shown up on the back line, MacKensie choosing to keep Fenna covered until she'd oriented herself and was ready to jump back into the fighting. It didn't take long before the dutchwoman was off, leaving MacKensie count the number of targets that her mundane weaponry would be effective against.

But that wouldn't matter anymore.

"I beseech thee, Mother Iris, thou who are radiant and wise, ruler of the skies and bearer of the sun, Guide us with thy luminous light's gentle sway so that in thy name victory may be attained "

Both dagger and crossbow became engulfed in white-gold flames. Flames that touched her hands but did her no harm. It quickly made sense to her that this enchantment was the elemental damage she needed to not only do extra damage, but hit all and every enemy on the battlefield. After the torture she'd just been through; almost forced to watch helplessly while her friend was killed - this moment was extremely empowering.

She started by sheathing her dagger, grabbing a handful of bolts and aiming at the remaining wraiths Barracker had not yet dealt with, near Adam and James. Each bolt caught fire as it dropped into the firing mechanism of her crossbow and she shot one at a time, not as fast a Deadly Flurry attack, but working the bolt-action crossbow with lightning dexterity nonetheless. Four holy-fire bolts was all it took to destroy two wraiths. The joy was apparent on her face.

"Mac!" MacKensie's eyes locked onto James. "The phylactery should be a vessel!"

The phylactery! It was up to her. She nodded resolutely. "Oui!"

Barely thinking about it - barely even looking where she was aiming - she shot her grapplehook at the ceiling above the Greater Wraith, and flew off just as soon as it connected. Even as she closed in on the giant ghostly being, having to lift her legs to avoid touching it's head as she swung past it, she could hear James' voice above the sound of the Greater Wraith's charging spell.

"A locket, a skull, a fucking vase, as long as it is meant to contain something it can be the phylactery!"

Her grapplehook disconnected and sailed through the air the rest of the way. Her double-foot landing was cushioned by dropping into a roll, the rest of the momentum dying out by skidding a couple of yards once back on her feet. Immediately she was upon the cabinets, repeating James' description to herself as she opened each door and started rifling through the contents.

And then she found it: A small wooden box, about the size of her jewelry box as a teenager. It had to be it. Her gut told her it was. And so she dropped it on the floor and delivered a mighty stomp with all she could muster. The box smashed into pieces.

Jon could not help but be furious.

His esteemed Lord Drath'tuthan would have launched the BoneWracker spell by now had it not been for that blasted Cleric at the back, delaying the process with a puny Counterspell. James must have known that he couldn't have hoped to interupt The Master's charging but he was smart enough to buy extra time, and what little of it was bought was threatening everything the cult had worked for.

And speaking of; that very blasted Cleric would be easily out of the picture right now if it wasn't for that meddling Druid. No Druid should have been so powerful, cut off from the very earth and green that fuelled them. But this oddly dressed one had managed to smuggle entire trees into the temple with him.

Where was everyone? Could they not hear the alarm? Why had only the sentries answered the call? The reason had become clear far too late. The entrance was barricaded. The tall one. With the smart mouth. Damn him. Now Lord Drath'tuthan and The Listener would have to concede that they were vulnerable.

The Listener held his head once more as Drath'tuthan screeched in pain. One of the pests had broken through! The one with the spear. But Jon was sure he'd seen her go down. Why were these wraiths not doing their jobs? She should be dead. And they should all be dead to BoneWracker now. How was this happening!?




The Greater Wraith's body had a dimensional tear through it, where Fenna's spear tip had risen with burning, peircing and slashing damage. In retaliation, Drath'tuthan drew a sword from invisibility, pulling it out of thin air. A massive laser-blue, smoking greatsword. Then it swung a wide and low blow at the woman, aiming to cut her in half for her insolence.

Then he lifted the sword in the air and used it like a wizard's staff to summon 6 more wraiths all around him for protection. Each ghost moved quickly and aggressively, matching the anger (and maybe the fear?) of their master.

When all of Second Chance's weapons erupted with holy fire, there was no question that both Lord and Listener felt fear. Drath'tuthan was so close to finishing BoneWracker, which would most certainly turn the tide back in their favour. So distracted by the holy fire was he, that he barely acknowledged MacKensie flying overhead. In a bid to gain more time, the Greater Wraith levitated high, up to the ceiling, where he could hopefully be out of reach for long enough to have his revenge.



When MacKensie destroyed the phylactery, Jon Gringot clutched his chest where his heart had once been. A picture of agony, he writhed and then fell to the floor, convulsing and coughing black blood. He did not die, but he had weakened considerably. He struggled to his hands and knees.

"Arrgh!" Jon was struck by James' first light beam, in the arm, causing him to fall flat once again. The necromancer managed to turn onto his side and cast a ward to block the remaining light beams.

The expert swordsman and the spearman were not doing exceptionally well against Zell and Sil, but were at least handling themselves well enough to survive, now reinforced by the 6 Wraiths.

At the entrance to the ritual chamber, the barricade started shaking as cultists tried to ram their way in. A piece of door was blasted off, leaving a hole near the top of the entrance, letting in the shouts of cultists and showing their moving shadows in the corridor. They would not be held off for long.

And at the ceiling, the loud magical buzz and crackle of the charging Bonewracker began to grow even louder than the temple alarm as the spell became less than thirty seconds away from activating............................

The Great Wraith pulled a smoking, laser-looking blade from thin air and striked down with it, wide and low. At that moment Fenna's spear erupted in a holy fire, it startled her, but she noticed it wasn't too hot to wield it. It had to be a blessing. As the blade came down, Fenna planted the end of her spear on the ground and used it to jump over it. A moment later and she'd been cut in half. She landed on a foot and knee and immediately turned to see what it was up to know. It lifted the sword and summoned even more wraits. Damn it she thought to herself, but at least everyone had glowing weapons now, so each of her companion had the means to defend themselves if needed. She heard James instruct MacKensie to get the phylactery and she trused her agily fellow ranger to do so.

While the six new wraits were a problem and she could hear banging on the door as well, but that big wraith was a big threat and it needed to be taken out.

Fenna rose and pulled her arm back as she kept her eyes on the Greater Wraith, who apparantly thought that going to the ceiling would somehow save it. She gritted her teeth and focussed on her target. The same sensation that she had during the archery practise came over her, the wraith seemed to get bigger while staying the same size and closer even though he was far away. A strong feeling that she couldn't miss came over her. The muscles in her arm tightend as she moved the flaming spear forward. For her it seemed to go slow, but in reality only seconds passed since she had started to aim.

Sil grabbed the spear of the cultist with her talons and pecked at the fingers until they were bloody and unable to hold the weapon. She felt the concentration coming from Fenna and circled back to see what was happening. Sil didn't understand everything about humans, those detachable feathers for instance, they could take them off whenever they pleased, so weird. But she recognised Fenna's gaze, she had locked on a target, much as Sil herself did when she was in the air and spotted a rabit. The wood with the pointy end served as beak or talons, it was what would catch the prey, hovering up there. An upward dive. Sil knew how annoying it was if something came in the path of the dive. She had a bird suddenly fly in front of her once, causing her to lose the rabbit. Another day a leaf had blown in her face. The perfect dive ruined.

By being with the humans Sil also knew the wraits, that all spread out and moved to their own target after being summoned. One was going to Fenna. Sil flew up, she wouldn't allow it to get in her path and make her miss her prey. Squaking and flapping her wings, she got in the wraiths face. It rose its sword to strike at the falcon, but with an agile move she evaded the blade. Now the wraith was annoyed and saw in Sil its next target. Sil flew down with the wraith following her, lifting it's blade, intending to strike down at the falcon. When Sil was close to the expert swordwielder, she suddenly made a sharp upward turn and flew up.

Fenna threw the flaming spear with all her might to pierce the Great Wraith. It went up in a straight line, barely missing the lesser wraith that got distraced by Sil. Fenna unsheated her dagger next, now that she was without main weapon (for the moment at least) the smaller blade would have to do to defend herself.

So much was happening on the battlefield. Barracker saved Fenna's life, and still had the energy to take out two of the wraiths near the Druid and Cleric. Adam thanked the Paladin before asking him, like the group's leader, if he was okay. Then Zell yelled at the red-eyed man, telling him to make a barricade…before proceeding to do so himself. Confusing, but what James said next drew his attention away from the Fighter bravely combating the enemy.

"If I pass out you better catch me”

The red-eyed man nodded, being sure to stay close to the injured one in case he really did lose consciousness. Based on the Cleric's appearance, this was a very real possibility. And despite being impressed by the magical fire that was created, the Druid was more concerned that James would pass out. He somehow looked worse after casting his spell than before. Some kind of cost for the magic? The red-eyed man might have to ask about it later, but right now the priority was on “crowd control” if it was possible.

Examining the field to see what the best targets were, he instead saw MacKensie kill the remaining wraiths, followed by her  zipping across the battlefield and smashing the phylactery. Awesome. This seemed to weaken the lich considerably - great news for the good guys. The bad guys, however, summoned six more wraiths! Certainly not the sort of enemies that wood could block.

Instead, Adam trusted his team with those, and turned his focus to a different task. Time was of the essence - the barricade was weakening quickly - and that meant that the Druid had to work faster than that. Refusing to let his group be in any more danger than necessary, he focused on the task at hand, lifting multiple wooden pews at once, moving them towards the door. Then the fisherman arranged them in order to efficiently reinforce Zell's barricade. It was a little overwhelming doing all of that, but when was battle ever easy? Satisfied at blocking the cultists, the fisherman then took the tree that had been on wraith guard duty and used it to slam the Listener, moving it around the ward before doing so.

Was the spell the big wraith charging the bigger threat? Yes, but Adam trusted his team to deal with that. And with a toss of her spear, Fenna rewarded the man's faith in his allies.

Useless.

This was the word currently loudest in Zell's mind as he found himself tired, injured and struggling with the fresh, equally skilled swordswoman in front of him. Here he was; fucking stuck behind a cultist - while the alarm continued to sound and, more concerningly, the charging spell of 'Big Bad Boss' started to approach a crescendo.

He could do nothing because he couldn't even hurt half the monsters in this temple.

Useless!

In a brief breath between exchanges, Zell sighted Sil putting a clinic on the spearman, disarming him and generally looking like a badass in the conflict. At any other moment ever, Zell would've loved to see it, but right now he was furious - (You're fucking useless, Zell!) - and his anger would turn into full-blown temper tantrum when a bunch of brand-new wraiths were summoned into the picture.

"FUCK THIS PLAAAACE!!!"

Had he managed to contain himself for roughly ten more seconds, James would be bailing him out with a blessing of holy fire. But nope. He unleashed his inner crybaby. There was a silver lining, however... yet another piece of proof that Zell was the kind of man who excelled at finding a way to win.

Cheesing. Charm. Chicanery. Straight-up Cheating? Marsel Brooks was a choose-your-own-adventure of cheap charades that so-often saw him cheering at the chequered flag as champion.

...So, aside from the childish chants consisting of crying, cuss words and chastising - Here was the extraordinarily cool part of what happened...

Back against the wall with a swordswoman and another wraith closing in, he looked to his right and saw the oil lamp held in the sconce. Then he recalled Barracker's advice, from the beginning, about elemental damage. There wasn't much thinking after that. 'Thinking,' after all, was not Zell's style.

"Aha!" he struck the oil lamp with sword, exploding the glass, oil and embers, his drow-made blade biting a millimeter into the stone wall. Aside from the small explosion and mess made, oil began pouring down the flat of Zell's sword, subsequently lighting on fire as flames from the lamp followed down the trickling oil. The result was a very temporary flaming sword. "Take this you fucking freak!"

Reckless but effective, Zell practically melted the closest wraith in a whirlwind of wild swings that saw his fire sword spitting mini fireballs all over the immediate vicinity, like some kind of moving volcanic eruption. The swordswoman could not get near, forced to back off and avoid the spitting fire or the actual flaming sword itself as Zell just kept extending his combinaton with strikes and swings in perpetuity. A second wraith tried to find an opening to attack Zell, took damage and screeched in pain, backing off rapidly to avoid getting sent back to Hell.

It didn't take long for the oil to run adry on the black blade. The flames turned from orange to dying blue before disappearing. Zell siezed the momentum gained and pressed the shaken swordswoman. And before any kind of balance could be redressed, James Sirius played his hidden trump card at the most perfect of moments.

"I beseech thee, Mother Iris, thou who are radiant and wise, ruler of the skies and bearer of the sun, Guide us with thy luminous light's gentle sway so that in thy name victory may be attained "

"Hahahaha!" Zell's laughter was maniacal as his sword lit up on fire once again. His aggression ramped up against his retreating oppenent, who was barely parrying away the attacks. How long had James possessed this blessing!? How lesser men would've played the card too early! How many other tricks did that man have up his sleeve!? Who better to have them, huh? "James, ye wonderful bastard, ye!"

Sil suddenly appeared in the middle of the duel, then flew a sharp turn straight up. The next instant, a ghost blade missed the falcon and struck the expert swordswoman in the back, causing her to cry out. Zell jumped on the opportunity and charged right into her, getting stabbed in the process of running his sword through her chest.

Ouch.

As the two sword experts seperated, the cultist fell to the floor while Zell stumbled a step, one hand holding the hole in his abdomen. Even leaking blood, and with a bad shoulder, now that he had holy fire on his weapon, he easily fended off the basic wraith attacks. Almost lazily, he dismissed the aggressions of the wraith who'd stupidly got one of their own cultists killed trying to take out Sil. Now it too retreated with a holy fire wound courtesy of the Englishman. Zell pushed himself forward.

The spearman who lost his battle to Sil, crawled to his spear with bloodied and injured hands. The moment he tried to pick his weapon up, Zell stamped down on the shaft, then kicked the cultist in the face. A holy fire sword was best utilised on the primary target. Especially now, before the boss could launch it's super attack. So Zell spun around to gain some momentum and hammer-threw his sword straight up at the Greater wraith.

Then he picked up the spear on the floor and advanced wearily on the Lich. He'd lost a lot of blood, but would make a final action to try and stab the skelly-summoning bastard. The rest was up to his friends.

He was done.

More and more pieces were falling into place, attacks, screams, and enemies falling into position, he couldn't bear to look directly at the flames- even knowing they were there was proving too much, luckily it seemed like this dance was nearing its last cycle. Five dancers had already chosen their finishing moves, a thrust, a slice, magic, a barrier, and a sneak attack.

They alone wouldn't be enough, the song required all participants to move in synchrony to finish it and there were still three people who had to move.

He didn't know what moves would Kazz and Mac decide upon but he placed his faith in them, as for himself... he found himself hesitating, both were dangerous foes and he didn't know if Adam's attack would be able to finish the other man. In the end he decided to follow his heart and go against the foe that he despised, the Listener may be the cause but the greater Wraith was the origin.

Shooting his final Light Beam at the Listener he grabbed his anchor, unlike the other weapons he was covered in calming permafrost, cool to the touch and gentle on the mind, he recalled a move he had seen not so long ago, from its original owner.

He didn't have the strength to replicate the feat so physics would have to pick up the slack.

Slowly he started swinging the anchor, back and forth, back and forth, a little faster, back and forth, faster, back and forth, faster! a complete revolution, faster!! and then another, and another, and another, faster!!! until he could barely control it! Until it hurt his hands and then faster!

"Eat shit!"

With a yell he let go of the anchor and the chain, it was almost cathartic, watching it move towards its target as if in slow motion, Arthur would have been able to throw it faster he was sure but he hoped that wherever he was now he had seen what he had just done.

A palpable energy and tumultuous whispers rode swirls of rushing wind when the box was broken, leaving no doubts in MacKensie that she'd correctly carried out James' directives. Disgusted and alarmed, she recoiled back a step, shaking the foot she'd smashed the phylactery with, trying to rid herself of any stain, in case it stuck to the leather sole of her shoe like a bad smell. As the feelings and sounds dissipated, her focus returned back to the room and the greater threat. The old man - the lich, as James had called him - was now on the floor, struggling to defend himself against the combined efforts of Adam's oak tree and James' light beams. Fenna, Zell and Barracker had chased the Greater Wraith up to the ceiling. The entrance to the chamber was now sufficiently barred and nobody was coming to save their masters. It felt like Second Chance was on the cusp of victory.

But it wasn't over just yet. And whatever nasty surprise the Greater Wraith was charging up was best avoided if at all possible. Off her back foot she sprang with great acceleration, running back to the action. The mechanical double-click sound of the ranger working the bolt-action signalled she was ready to aim as she sprinted. The pop and twang sound signalled a bullet shot, the holy fire enchantment making it look like she was firing golden tracer rounds - a beautiful sight amid the chaos. One wraith she hit was gliding in to engage Fenna and interrupt her concentration, but MacKensie had put an end to that idea with the timely interception. Another wraith she hit actually burned up into nothingness with a dying screech - it had already been injured after crossing blades with Zell.

She arrived on the main battle line with her friends, dodging around the attacking oak tree and letting off a close range shot at the Lich as she lept past him. Had she possessed the Source Crystal back in high school, her Long Jump personal record would have been crushed, such was the massive distance she covered, even managing to pass by Zell with the spear before landing next to Fenna and dipping back into her ammo pouch for more bolts.

From under the Greater Wraith, the magical noise of the charging spell was louder than ever, generating tension within her similar to the feeling she felt when Aurok the Maneater was launching it's final attack. She only prayed that they could kill it while it was defenceless, and so she fired a bolt upwards, launched her dagger with a pirouetting underhand fling, before smoothly reloading and firing again.

After Barracker dealt with two of the wraiths attacking James and Adam, two more were still at large and ready to pounce so Barracker would have to be quick. But then the worst happened, the spectre oil was done and he couldn’t fight the last two. Adam thanked the Paladin and Barracker gave a nod of acknowledgement but felt dread at not being able to stop these last two floating around. Luckily the remaining wraiths had delayed their attack.

He looked around trying to think of what to do and was not happy to see six more wraiths had gotten summoned, zoning in on Fenna’s and Zell’s position. The Paladin had looked over, watching Zell’s spark of genius to deal elemental damage without possessing any magic or alchemy. He simply used his environment, setting his sword aflame to fight on a level playing field with the wraiths. That’s a neat trick, very effective.

Then out of nowhere, Barracker could hear James bellowing a loud prayer. Whatever was about to happen, the Paladin had a good hope when he heard his leader invoke the name of ‘The Mother of all Creation’. "I beseech thee, Mother Iris, thou who are radiant and wise, ruler of the skies and bearer of the sun, Guide us with thy luminous light's gentle sway so that in thy name victory may be attained "

His sword glowed with a new radiance, a blinding light and fiery aura gleamed over the claymore’s massive blade. Glowing Runes appeared imprinted into the Orichalcum, making the weapon look differently in the light. His mood felt brighter and the Vampire smiled to himself, fangs peeking out from between his lips. He felt pumped and thrusted his sword in the air, admiring the flames of light flickering off. Then the entire temple would hear him roar.

‘The gods favour us,” he proclaimed after MacKensie shot down the two ghostly threats near to himself and the magic users. Barracker quickly checked his surroundings around James and Adam before giving the all clear to himself and darting off towards the greater wraith.

"James Sirius has brought down the power of Mother Iris from the heavens and I, Barracker Kassel, come with The Reaper, Hades, from the depths to meet her," he exclaimed at the greater wraith, swinging his fiery claymore and taking out a nearby lesser wraith in the process. "And you shall be caught in the middle!"

With the frontline companions, now all with glowing weapons, they all chipped down the enemies. Even Sil contributed with skillful and precise talons attacks on the enemy. Adam's presence was also felt in the form of smashing trees. The phylactery was destroyed, the Lich fell and the greater wraith retreated to the ceiling and as it did, the Vampire ran up the wall and leapt up as high as he could before kicking off to strike down the greater wraith but missed.

Damn it, he thought as he missed and landed to the floor and continued to fight the lesser wraiths. He killed a wraith and joined everyone else in throwing his main weapon up at the greater wraith. It was a beautiful teamwork attack that saw spear, sword, dagger and anchor flying up in synchronization.

In Capitol City's Colosseum, where many duelists take part in one-on-one combat for fame and fortune, there is a well-known saying:

"An opponent is most vulnerable right before they are delivering the winning blow."

-The first adventurer to say this is up for debate

No saying in all of Mytherian history was perhaps more apt than this one, at this time, in the ritual chamber of the Temple of Hades. Seconds before the powerful spell BoneWracker was cast, a hail of weaponry bathed in the light of holy fire was launched upward. Drath'tuthan could not move or do anything to stop the attacks. Perhaps it thought that it had the constitution and toughness to take a few hits, in this moment. It would be logical. It only needed a few more seconds to deliver a table-turning irrecoverable blow to the adventurers. Surely a moment of vulnerablity was worth it? However, the burst-damage of so many heavy-duty primary weapons powered up with Holy Fire, the ultimate weakness of Hellish entities... the Greater Wraith did not anticipate such a wave of power.

First came the Enchanted Spear from another world. Connected to the soul of the wielder, it's power both in level and consistency was a reflection of the woman's background, her personality and her inner strength. When it struck Drath'tuthan, the wraith flinched and balked. The holy fire burned.

Second was the sword possessed by a core aspect of The Devil, Baphomet. This power was very familiar to Drath'tuthan. It tasted of Oblivion Plane. And Devils were of the highest rank and status in that dimension. The sword landed and Drath'tuthan twisted in agony.

Third came a simple dagger, thrown with such accuracy that it bullseye'd right into the open wound that the first two weapons created. Coated with magic, it was enough to add to the pain and damage.

Fourth and Fifth landed at the same time. The Claymore launched last but due to distance and power, hit in sync with the Anchor. Frost and Fire, blessed by divine power. Undaya, Hades and Iris forming a trinity of power growing beyond the sum of it's parts. This final blow was simply too much for Drath'tuthan. The Greater Wraith would not get to see it's powerful spell realised.

The screech of the Greater Wraith as it died was not like the Lesser ones. The noise was deeper, louder and so distorted, that the thin cosmic fabric that seperated dimensions was twisted, enough that the world around Second Chance briefly flickered between a ritual chamber in Mytheria to a barren wasteland in Hell. It did not last long though. The final moment of the Greater Wraith's life ended with an explosion of non-destructive energy that rippled out past the walls of the ritual chamber and covered the summit of Temple Hill. The sphere of influence was destroyed along with Drath'tuthan.



There was a small silence after the explosion, but that silence was quickly filled as cultists in the corridor became not cultists but regular people. Village folk and townsfolk from all around Northern Central Mytheria.

"It can't be!"

"What have I done!?"

Screams, shouts of denial, crying and horror as so many innocent people were hit by the unbrainwashed realisation of everything they'd done.

"I'm a monster!"

And more.

It was terrible. Deeply saddening. So much death, destruction. And so many former cultists who would have to live with the trauma of their actions. Generations of the populace tormented. Some villages crippled. Such was the destruction that just one single entity from the Oblivion Plane could unleash. Just one single, regular, weakling from Hell where walked titans of pure evil.




Burned by light beams from the Cleric that had outsmarted him. Hammered by the robust oak trunks of the Druid that stood in the distance. Jon Gringot was defeated before his master, but the nature of his zombie-like body gave him enough time alive to see the mess he'd made. Just his head and part of his spine being in tact was enough for his consciousness to remain and be unbrainwashed.

His life flashed before his eyes.

A life of dedication. Philanthropic and charitable deeds. A life given to the service of the people. What a reputation he'd built. Loved and respected by all. Trusted by all. There was not a single household that wouldn't leave their door unlocked for Jon Gringot. He'd been there for so many of them. Worked tirelessly to keep the fabric and threads of communities strong. Kept ties to the big cities in the region, maintaining a flow of govermental infrastructure and amenities to the lesser known parts of the continent. Roads, schools, hospitals, law enforcement... Jon Gringot made sure every life in towns and villages was as comfortable as a life in the city. On top of that he still found time to serve Hades and give sermons to the people.

And he'd ruined it all with a single moment of weakness. After having his will ground to dust, he gave in to whispers from the dark.

Tears fell from his eyes as he lost consciousness and passed away. What afterlife awaited was anybody's guess.



All threats were diminshed. Master and Listener were dead. The cult was no more. Second Chance had completed their task.

It was finally over. After one impressive assault using multiple magically-powered weapons, the battle was finally over. The wraith was dead. So was his lich. Adam was grateful for the peace, and more so for the fact that nobody in Second Chance had died today. Also, as he heard the horrified exclamations of various former cultists, that the group's enemies had returned to normal and nobody else would need to lose their lives. What they were all thinking was something the Druid could only imagine. What he knew, however, was that there were people in a worse place than these ones were. Literally, since being stuck in a tree jail was probably worse than being outside of it.

After talking with his allies to be absolutely certain everyone was okay and discussing the fate of the brainwashed with the team - the consensus being that their former opponents should go home - Adam left the temple to go free the ones that were trapped. And compared to what had just transpired, this task was pretty straightforward. 

No, we aren't going to hurt you. Yes, you can go home.

The shift from “death cultist” to “remorseful citizen” did take a little getting used to though. Even the one who was disdainful to the Druid earlier seemed regretful, seeming to worry about what the red-eyed man could only assume were misdeeds he committed while under the wraith's command. Hardul, on the other hand, was happy that the cult that had been threatening him had been dealt with and he could resume a more normal existence. Adam wished him well as the dwarf took his leave. And speaking of people who threatened others…

The last person to be freed was George, the leader of the ambush outside the temple. The Druid couldn't help feeling a little awkward having a conversation with their onetime foe, but the red-eyed man knew his course of action was the right thing to do.

“I believe this is yours. You had it when we, uh, met earlier.” Saying this, Adam took out the wand he had taken earlier and presented it to the mustached man.

Zell never did get to stab the skelly-summoning bastard. By the time he got to the old man, Adam and James had already made a mess of him. Besides, it was much more attention-grabbing to see the final moments of the Greater Wraith as it let out the most discomforting roar Zell had ever heard. Zell was leaning heavily on his borrowed spear, looking up as Big Bad Bossy exploded, the shockwave fluttering his hair as it blew by.

It's done, was all he thought. "Fuck," was all he mumbled.

He didn't have much energy for anything else at that moment. Bleeding, hungry and soooo goddamn tired. He almost fell asleep leaning on the spear. For a split-second, he might've have literally lost consciousness...

...The drow-made black sword came falling back down from the ceiling and landed point-first, burying itself into the wooden lecturn where the priest would've once given so many sermons, making a large crack in the furniture. Zell heard a sadistic, echoing, evil chuckle...

...but his eyes blasted open, suddenly wide awake and looking around until he sighted his sword. There it was, looking like King Arthur's sword in the stone, stood tall and proud as it protruded perfectly straight from the lecturn. But that thing was no Excalibur. And it didn't belong to Zell. He was just using it. A nice rental, one could say. Like those guys back in London who would waste a tonne of money renting a Ferrari for the weekend so they could pretend they were mega rich and live the dream. The sword was a Ferrari alright - a goddamn Bugatti, even. Zell hadn't quite figured out what the price would be just yet to 'live the dream' (the drunken-sleep nightmare in the early hours before Second Chance left Valhiem was kind of a clue,) but he needed the power to keep up with the others, at this moment. Keep up with pulling his weight. Keep the people he cared about safe.

Enough bitching.

"Well," the Englishman said loudly. "I must say; I'm starting to enjoy these dramatic endings." He looked at James as he cast the spear away and strained himself to reestablish his usual cocky posture. "Just how many of those random-ass blessings have you got bro?" He grinned. "A party trick for every occassion, huh?"

He did his usual thing and touched base with everyone on the team - handshakes, hugs, pats on the back and "Yalrite?"s all-around. When he got to James, who happened to be the only party member who looked as beat-up as Zell felt, the swordsman couldn't help himself. "You look like shit, mate."

He broke character and chuckled.

All their efforts - every weapon Second Chance had brought to bear - all for one last gasp attempt to bring down their target. MacKensie watched hopefully as the final weapons hit their mark - a flashing white/blue anchor and a flaming white/gold greatsword. The damage was clear, but would it be enough? Baited breath and a moment that seemed to last an eternity followed, before the brain-shaking roar and following explosion of wind and energy shook the very temple. MacKensie was frozen in the silence that followed, not daring to celebrate too early. Her spell of statue-like stillness was broken when she turned to the ritual chamber entrance, hearing the cries and shouts of the once-angry cultists that had turned from violent and bloodthirsty to horror and despair.

"It can't be!"

"What have I done!?"

That's when she knew for sure that it was over. They'd won. The breath she'd not realised she'd been holding suddenly exhaled, and she found herself breathing heavy, her head pounding. Hair a mess, she moved a hand over her face and head to tame the unruliness then said a short, silent prayer to the sky. She wanted to cry. This adventuring business was tough. On the body, thrice moreso on the mind, and who knows how badly on the spirit.

She didn't cry though. Instead she forced her tears back and went to see that her friends were okay. The cocky remarks from the party idiot was enough strength to help her smile at Fenna as she approached the other woman. "We did it," she said, meaning only to touch the woman's arm but finding herself going in for a big hug instead. She was glad they were all alive, of course. Even having unique affections for each of them, besides Barracker as he was obviously so very new to the group, but she honestly wouldn't know how long she could go on, in this world, if Fenna was not around. The woman she looked up to, in so many ways, was a constant source of resilience for MacKensie. And so the tightness of her hug said so much more than words ever could. Her repeated words choked a little, but she managed not to cry. "We did it."

For Adam, she gave a slow nod with a relieved hand on her heart, so happy that he was okay, but careful to avoid closing the distance out of awkwardness. The feelings she woken up with had yet to be resolved, if ever, and their dynamic from her side would likely be difficult to navigate until she'd figured things out. Speaking of which, the other man in this awkward situation was approaching. Zell - a man that, along with James, she was perhaps the most buddy-buddy broey-broey with. But that just made things even more awkward and difficult, because the feelings underneath all that banter were clear. Keeping her distance from him looked so obviously weird, she could sense it, but she gave him a nod and an uncharacteristic salute, then quickly moved on.

James she hugged, careful to avoid hurting his inuries. "You saved us all, at the end there," she told him. "A more perfect leader, I could not ask for."

She was about to inquire further about the blessing, but sighted Zell's approach and made herself scarce. "Barracker, you were amazing," she said to the vampire, offering him his own style of embrace; his patented clasp of forearms. "I cannot count the amount of times you carried the way through this mission. You have been a boon to Second Chance, and it is an honour to call you friend."

Adam removed the barricade easily with his magic, another display of his amazing powers, then began dealing with the very apologetic and traumatized people in the corridor, handling them with the care he was known for. She was glad that the Druid was willing to step up and manage things outside. It was likely his own way of dealing with things. As for MacKensie, she decided to hold off on leaving the ritual chamber, wanting to catch her breath and decompress a moment from the arduous journey before dealing with anything else.

Barracker had never felt more happy about a victory. He remembered his first field assignment as a soldier, where he’d been part of a regiment who flushed out a goblin nest that cropped up on the outskirts of Valhiem. He had felt a surge of exhilaration because of the first kill of an evil being. But then that feeling was topped later in life as a Paladin, when he hunted his most toughest feat. A baby Hydra that was not yet fully grown to the creature of legend, but still almost killed him. And now his greatest feeling was to bring peace back to an entire region, with a band of companions who put their lives on the line for each other, trusted each other and worked as a unit. Words could not describe how he felt when he joined in with the final attack, led by Fenna’s spear, and made possible by James’ blessing.

His first instinct was to check the old lich and noticed the tears in the dead man’s eyes. He only felt sadness for all mortals involved, his anger was reserved for the demonic entity that had caused all this atrocity. “May Hades show mercy upon you,” the Paladin whispered.

The sight of the Paladin was drawn over to his comrades, not just to check up on them, but the glow of the crystal. Purple light shined bright, illuminating from the back of their left hands. He was in awe in his mind at the phenomenon he was witnessing. Ascension, directly from the source. His own crystal did not glow up as it had not reached its limit for this level. Barracker had taken many years to reach his current level of ascension, but here was a group of people from another world who seemed to ascend every five minutes!. It reminded him of his favourite boyhood story, Isaac Ferronor, the kid who was a hero at just twelve years old, right in the midst of the mythic age. “The short time of this party being here... Is this the start of a new mythic age?” He muttered under his breath.

Like everyone else, Barracker made sure to check up on everyone and congratulate them on a hard fought victory.

"Barracker, you were amazing," MacKensie said to the vampire, who returned the hardy handshake, feeling a spark of joy that she would adopt his warrior's handshake. "I cannot count the amount of times you carried the way through this mission. You have been a boon to Second Chance, and it is an honour to call you friend."

He couldn’t help but smile at his comrade, she was the one who saved him, Adam and James at the crucial moment when he had ran out of spectre oil and still had two wraiths to deal with. “Well friend, you have my most humble gratitude for it was you saved MY behind out there,” the vampire chuckled. “For someone so new to battle, you have shown your quality, my lady. We all make a great team”.

Barracker went up to the leader of Second Chance, a man who he was even more fiercely loyal to, after showing leadership qualities of the finest commanders out there. “James,” Barracker saluted with a fist to his chest. “It is still nightfall. I would suggest that we rest up here until morning. Either make camp outside on the hill top or use the kitchen and beds inside here”. He bows his head slightly. “I leave the decision to you. Until then, if I may be excused, captain?”

Moments later, Barracker was off on the other side of the temple. Familiar with the layout of temples in general, he found his way to the shrine room. He put his face mask to the side, then took off his leather chestpiece. Took out his satchel of blood vials and popped the cork of one vial. Thankfully to his mother, Anne had spiced the lambs blood with cinnamon and sugar. “Just like those cinnamon sweet rolls. I don’t know what I would do without these at my disposal,” he said before downing the vial. And then came the part he hated. The veins in his eyes became more noticeable and a deep red glazed over his sight, his heart pumping faster. Clenching his wrist to try and control himself, his veins started bulging out of his skin, the feeling was unusual. Hard to explain but a kick of adrenaline, his blood eventually releveling back to normal.

“Forgive me Hades.” In the middle of this surge of feeling, it was hard to notice anything or keep a sense of hearing of his surroundings. Suddenly the vampire turned and felt an overwhelming shame as he realised that someone had noticed him. “MacKensie.”

He turned away and hoped for her to disappear. He didn’t know how much she’d seen, but he still felt like a monster.

George was contrite and extremely nervous as he faced Adam. It was maybe that he simply took Adam's awkwardness for some kind of disdain. Or maybe he was just projecting his own self-hatred onto the righteous man who stood strong in front of him. He played with one end of his mustache and kept his gaze lowered for the most part.

“I believe this is yours. You had it when we, uh, met earlier.”

"Ah, uh, yes," he bumbled, then thought of a better idea. "Why don't you keep it, Druid," he said instead. "A gift from me. For freeing us of this nightmare we've been trapped in. For dispelling the darkness that plagued our homes."

He reached out with both hands. One closed Adam's fist around the wand, then the other placed itself on Adam's fist. He bowed his head with gratitude. "The wand is tied to the Air Domain, so it would be best with one of your companions who have an affinity to it. But even if none of you do, I'm sure you can get some use out of it. Or perhaps even sell it for a good price in the city."

George bid Adam farewell and started the journey back to the town of Chelis, a couple of miles north of Temple Hill. Facing Adam was hard enough, but facing his hometown after the things he'd done... the crimes he'd committed... would be the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life.

The wand was expensive and advanced in magical production. Unfortauntely there were none in Second Chance that could explore the various spells that it's maximum potential could produce. However:

Anyone using the wand could at least cast a high-powered Wind Blast which would fire a narrow cone high pressure to knock opponents off their feet. In combination with environments such as spikes or cliff edges, it would yield even better results in combat.

With a small amount of study under a competent teacher, or excessive training, even someone without a Source Crystal might be able to charge the air and create some kind of electrical spell.

Again, without affinity in the Source Domain of Air, the amount of spell charges a person could hope to get out of the wand before it needed recharging would be maybe 10-15. After that, a specialist would be needed to be sought out to 'refill' the wand.

He didn't relax, not until he could feel the essence of the temple calm down, finally reaching a balance without an outside force fighting against it. Then, and only then did he allow himself to fall into his ass, he had exerted himself way too much more than he should have, it was a miracle that his wounds hadn't reopened or worse, mostly thanks to Kass playing defender for him and Adam.

Speaking of miracles.

He glanced at his hand where the crystal was shining, he still had a lot of questions about it but for the moment he was content on relishing in the invigorating feeling that came with Ascension, then just as he was beginning to relax he felt the now familiar feeling of another Blessing setting in his spell library accompanied by a ṯ̸̡̱̾û̶̳̜̻̜̺̟n̵̛̳͖̰̠̋͗͗͆̈̍ė̶̛͔̈́̑̓ he couldn't quite hear. With curiosity he closed his eyes and went to inspect it.

"... What the fuck"

He must be doing quite the expression now but he couldn't help it, the new blessing was just... bizarre was the only way to explain it. Before he could keep inspecting it he caught the sight of his friend making her celebratory rounds.

James she hugged, careful to avoid hurting his inuries. "You saved us all, at the end there," she told him. "A more perfect leader, I could not ask for."

He returned the hung with gusto "Ah shucks, you are gonna make me blush" His participation was bad, he got injured for no reason and he almost had a mental breakdown during a tense situation. Of course, he was not going to bring down the mood by mentioning it "But it was you guys who did everything, really"

Then another of his friends decided to come talk to him.

Barracker went up to the leader of Second Chance, a man who he was even more fiercely loyal to, after showing leadership qualities of the finest commanders out there. “James,” Barracker saluted with a fist to his chest. “It is still nightfall. I would suggest that we rest up here until morning. Either make camp outside on the hill top or use the kitchen and beds inside here”. He bows his head slightly. “I leave the decision to you. Until then, if I may be excused, captain?”

He snorted "Don't give me all that 'Captain' stuff Kass, you know I trust you in any decision you make, you saved our asses back then" He tough for a moment "Well, I think the village is a long way down and we could use a little rest"

And then another, he was really getting popular.

"Well," the Englishman said loudly. "I must say; I'm starting to enjoy these dramatic endings." He looked at James as he cast the spear away and strained himself to reestablish his usual cocky posture. "Just how many of those random-ass blessings have you got bro?" He grinned. "A party trick for every occassion, huh?"

He did his usual thing and touched base with everyone on the team - handshakes, hugs, pats on the back and "Yalrite?"s all-around. When he got to James, who happened to be the only party member who looked as beat-up as Zell felt, the swordsman couldn't help himself. "You look like shit, mate."

"I feel like shit"

He laughed with the taller adventurer, and man was that true, his healing spell did wonders but there was only so much it could do to soreness, next time they were in a safe space he was planning to sleep for a week straight. "That was one of my last tricks, the other ain't very useful sadly" It was dangerous to be honest "You appear hurt, let me patch you up"

Then he went around, giving bandages and disinfectant to the injured, infection would be an anticlimactic way to die.