Zell appreciated the patching up from his friend.

"Be gentle with me, fair knight," he said in a voice like a pure maiden on her wedding night.

Aside from the crass humour, Zell watched his bud do his medical magic with care and precision. That scowl James always wore might fool some, but never Zell. James was as nice a hearted individual as they come. Afterwards, he gave the Cleric a fist-bump and thanked him, then walked to the lecturn at the head of the chamber to collect his sword, giving a nod of comradery to anyone he made eye-contact with.

"And so the dashing rogue pulled the sword from the stone and became king of the Demon World," he muttered, then freed his sword, wiped it clean with his sleeve, then sheathed it.

Seeing that others were out dealing with the former cultists, Zell, always one to shirk duties, slunk off to go find some food. He was sure Barracker had mentioned there'd be a kitchen somewhere in this joint. As luck would have it, he found the scullery quite quickly and started rifling through the cupboards for some good food. As he did so, he thought about fact that their Source Crystal's had glowed again, meaning they were all ascended to new power-levels. No doubt that meant that everyone would get fancy new magic and moves. Everyone except him. Seemed he had no affinity for magic whatsoever. His one and only special move, his teleport, was deemed by Lucy Bottrill as not even a magical spell. She said, 'Oh, you errr, you just do it,' he seemed to remember.

<sniffle sniffle>

"?" Zell grunted and looked around. He was sure he heard something, but he was more concerned with wallowing in his own self-pity.

And finding food.

One cupboard, two cupboards. Rice. Would take too much effort to cook. Oooh, an apple. <Chomp>

Zell thought about his teleport and 'applied magical energy.' He looked through the data of the ability. Hm, he thought pleasantly. It's improved. He could use it more times per day and he now could also expend 2 of his teleports to create what could only be described as, an After-image?' Well, it didn't matter what it was called. Zell wasn't smart, but he was certainly cunning and creative. It would prove useful.

<sniffle sniffle... cough>

Alright, now that was definitely someone. Zell went to investigate, lamenting the fact that he'd recieved no special magic except a mild boost to his already-existing ability. He went into the room adjacent to find a young man, sat on the floor in the corner of the room, crying. Judging by his cultist robes, it didn't take a genius to figure out that here was a man dealing with the sudden weight of guilt and: Let's call it 'Post-Cut Clarity.'

Zell's mind could be ruthlessly disgusting at times.

"Hey," Zell said casually, causing the man to jump out of his skin. He gave the man a chance to eye his gear and realise who and what he was, then continued. "Get up and come with me." The man clearly felt he had no choice, probably fearing that his time for judgement had come. Into the kitchen they went, then Zell gave him a very serious look. "Make me a sandwich." The former cultist was bewildered. Zell went and sat at a table. "And whatever you know how to cook. I could eat a fucking horse, right now."

...

With a full mouth, Zell proceeded to explain a few things to the man who sat opposite him. First he asked the man his name and about his crimes, finding out that Draco Smitt had taken part in two raids and murdered several people in the process. They were from a neighbouring town and he did not know their families, but he did know other people in that town. Draco himself came from Cherrad. The young man was wracked with guilt, and probably needed to be on suicide-watch, in all honesty. Zell kept his face dispassionate, even though inside he was so twisted with a mixture of sympathy and disgust for the man in front of him. It was a difficult situation. Complex, to say the least. But sterness was what this young man needed, right now.

"Look me in the eyes, Draco." The young man did as he was told. Zell pushed his empty plate aside. "Repeat after me: I, Draco Smitt, am a man."

"I... Draco Smitt<whimper> am a man."

"And I am responsible for my own actions and my own destiny." Draco repeated. "And on my honour." Repeated. "I will spend my life atoning for my sins." Repeated. Zell got louder and rose to his feet. "Stand up. Because that's what men of honour do!" Draco was perfectly compliant, even down to the volume of his voice. "I can only beg those families for forgiveness." Repeated. "BUT IT MEANS NOTHING IF I CANNOT FORGIVE MYSELF FIRST!" That was when Draco stuttered. "SAY IT, DAMMIT!"

"It means nothing if I cannot forgive myself first," Draco said, tears streaming from his eyes.

Zell stayed stern. "As a man of honour I !WILL! forgive myself of my transgressions. And then before going anywhere else, I will walk my ass to that town and face my crimes." Repeated. "I will go and beg for forgiveness and I will accept whatever the response I get." Repeated. Zell moved aside the table as he went to meet Draco, eye-to-eye, damn-near nose-to-nose. If looks could kill, Zell's wide-eyed stare would've stopped Draco's heart. "And then I will pledge my life to atone for my sins." Repeated. "I will pledge to provide whatever I can for the families I maimed, for as long as it takes for them to recover." Repeated. "Because I am a man of honour." Repeated. "And only then will I go home and give myself the rest I deserve." Repeated. "Because I am worthy of rest and forgiveness." Repeated. "And I am a man of honour."

Draco was crying, but everytime he slouched, Zell made him straighten his back. Everytime he stalled, Zell intimidated him into continuing. The adventurer knew that it would take a lot to just wash away someone's guilt and hatred. But any good sportsman knows that words speak louder than thoughts, just like actions speak louder than words. Visualisation and Chants were key to mental strength. And sports logic was all Zell had for the poor bastard.

"Now make me another sandwich and think about what you're going to say when you face those families. And whatever you do... remember that you are a man of honour who will dedicate to atonement no matter what. Alright?"

"Yes sir."

...

Draco left the temple shortly after Zell was suitably fed. He skipped his home village of Cherrad entirely, marching off in the direction of the town he'd raided twice, constantly trying to walk tall and strong, and carry his heavy weight of guilt as a burden his honour and strength welcomed.

As for Zell, he no longer cared about Draco. He'd damn-near forgotten about the guy, after falling asleep briefly at the dinner table, awaking to yet another nightmare that confirmed an awful realisation...

Sleep would never be restful. Not for the forseeable future.

Not as long as he carried this uber-fucking-powerful sword on his back.

She felt that she'd not got across her point properly. The fact that; without Barracker here, this would not have been possible without another death in the group. Perhaps; victory would have been possible at all. And so when he disappeared through a door, she went after him. He was out of sight pretty quickly and she lost him, so it took her some time to catch up to the room he was in. And what she saw...

"Oh my gosh," she gasped.

She'd only ever seen him properly in full armour. And here he was with so much skin showing, such pale skin with such darkened veins bulging like leeches about to burst. He was shaking uncontrollably. And when he heard her involuntary gasp, she saw the eyes of a monster. A demon.

“MacKensie.”

That voice. That voice brought her from her mental hysterics. He was no monster. He was no demon. He was Barracker, their new comrade and friend. And when the Paladin turned away in shame, she felt shame herself, for even thinking all those bad things about him. And still.... even though her mind changed, her stomach did not. She was sad to admit that she was repulsed by him in this moment, and perhaps that made her overcompensate, because she marched straight up to where he was sat, leaned on his back and wrapped her arms around him.

"It's okay," she whispered frantically. "It's okay." She was terrified, repulsed, ashamed, determined, queezy... so many things, all at once. But she held on tight to him, fighting one set of sensibilities with another set of sensibilities. "It's okay, my friend." She was reassuring herself as much as him. "You are not alone. We are Second Chance. You need not turn away. It's okay."

She wasn't sure how long they spent in this position, but she was glad that he could not see her face, because she'd been white as a ghost for the better part of the pose. Her face would have betrayed her visceral reaction to him. But she calmed down the longer she held him. Any self-demeaning comments from Barracker would be wholly rejected by the Ranger. "You are not a monster. You are a righteous. You are a defender." Anything he said that denoted shame would be answered with equal gusto. "It is not your fault that you carry this affliction. You are no less a Paladin. The gods allow you. A hero who protects the innocent."

Once there was silence - once Barracker had accepted that MacKensie would not abandon him - she finally let him go and sat down beside him. She remained silent for some time, so anything he had to say, she gave him the floor to speak. If he said nothing, then she would sit in silence with him. If he spoke, she would listen intently.

If he had not answered these questions already, then she would pluck up the courage to tentatively ask:

"How did it all begin?"
"Is there a cure?"
"How has it affected your life?"

And finally, at the end of their conversation, she would let him know; "We are from another world. I died in my world. Second Chance really is my second chance at life. At companionship. Please, Barracker... let it be your second chance too."

It was over. A wave of relief went over Fenna when the big wraith at the ceiling died. Seeing everyone join in and turn their weapons into ranged weapons was a glorious sight. After the wave of relief, she was hit with the pain that the adrenaline of the fight had pushed back. She almost buckled through her knees, but remained standing. Her back hurt where the smaller wraith had sliced her. That would hurt for a while, no doubt about that.

When MacKensie approached her she smiled. "We did it," she echoed as she hugged the younger woman. They did it. A gold contract. Tough, but they had managed to do it. It would have been easier with their elemental mage at their side, Fenna hoped Lilliana was well.

She didn't think much about the crystal that glowed; she realised something would have changed, but she was too tired to give it any thought. After James helped her patch up the cut in her back to the best of his abilities, she went through her bag to get some food for a light meal, some dried fruits and dried meat from her rations, and she fed Sil some of the strips of meat as well.

"I'm going to let Sil outside and then sleep," she told her companions as she went back through the temple, towards the door. On her way she found some lost cultist who didn't know where to go and what to do, and she offered them kind words like "it wasn't your fault" and "your family will be glad to have you back". Truth be told, she tried to be kind to anyone she came across, but was too tired to go into any in-depth discussions about good and evil with them. With the pain in her back, shallow platitudes were all she could muster.

Outside Sil was happy to stretch her wings. Fenna took a moment to look at the night sky before going back inside and find a bed so she could sleep.

Lillianna.

Starting from when George explained how the wand worked and continuing even after he had left, the main thing on Adam's mind was the mage from Florida, his fellow American. Sure, the Druid had picked up on everything the mustached man told him, but it didn't seem as important as that woman's fate. Was she okay? Had she been able to finish her quest? Would they ever see each other again? He didn't have the answers to these questions, but he hoped for the best. And the fisherman decided to keep the wand; if he ended up meeting Lillianna in the future, the fisherman knew she could make good use of this item.

Perhaps it was good luck or a sign; whatever it was, seeing Sil fly out of the temple right after the resolution was made caused Adam to feel good about his course of action. Come to think of it, he hadn't really spent much time with Fenna. Both the Ranger and her bird were valued by him, so the Druid felt he should make that clearer at some point. The Dutch woman didn't stay out long though, so the two of them were only able to have a cursory conversation. 

After she left, the red-eyed man decided it would be a good idea to practice his magic. One thing in particular commanded his attention, and he felt that this time he could cast it completely. So after finishing that up, Adam Phillips went back inside the temple. If someone wanted to talk or something, he would be glad to do so. If not, he would get some rest, thankful for the calm after the recent violence that had occurred. 

Reginald De Wran, Valhiem's Director of Advanced Magical Development, stood with his hands behind his back upon the hilltop, looking with his perpetually stern gaze onto the epic scene of the city of Valhiem. A city that had been advanced on by a gargantuan military army of The Witch Queen. Such a monumental force of evil. Such numbers. And yet they had set upon the city with very little notice.

It was as The Academy had predicted: The Witch Queen would learn that The WellSprings were malfunctioning and that teleportation between cities was not available. All reinforcements had gone north of the Fortress of Fornost; the most tactically key location that seperated East from West. Any call for aid would likely be met with too late a reply. Doom was lurking for one of Mytheria's most central economic hubs. And the army that had come to Valhiem was clearly not to imprison the city. It had come to wipe it off the map.

She's played her hand well, Reginald thought with disdain. He did not let fear cloud his thoughts. Nor did he let it cloud his concetration on his current task.

"Director Reginald, sir," came a voice of one of his advisors. The gnome, Reginald, had a presence so much more powerful and larger than his actual body. He did not turn from his pose. His advisor would know he was listening. "Every soldier and scout we have sent into The Mazy Hillocks has not returned. We have even lost contact with, the adventurer party, The Flail."

"Useless," Reginald spat. "All of the powerful adventurer parties have been sent north to Fornost, leaving Valhiem full of the Gold and Silver Tier riff-raff. Good help is so hard to find."

"We cannot afford any more losses here, or our academics will be left without a bodyguard."

Now Reginald turned from his hilltop view of Valhiem, noting with grim displeasure as Lizard Cavalry Units of the enemy were riding around the city outskirts to surround the place and make sure that any evacuation of the Valhiem citzenry would not go unpunished. His ice cold gaze fell onto his subordinate. It seemed that they would not find the corpse of the adventurer known as Arthur Baker. Well, at least they had located the other.

"Very well," Reginald ordered sternly. Then looked to the wizard contingent he'd brought along on the expedition. "Lay out the corpse of Clive Michel. We will begin immediately."

It was about this time that one of the wizards was courageous enough to stammer his concerns about what they were about to do.

"Director. Are you sure about this? Ressurection is highly illegal without expception. Punishable by death," he explained. Not that anyone here needed that explaining to them. Much of the Dark Domain Source Spells were illegal or highly regulated. But this was Dark Domain Galactic-Tier Ritual Sorcery. A giant no-no. "We are committing the highest of crimes by going through with this."

The President of the Academy and The High Septum, Areleth, had used their security classification to employ the Code Readers to look into the Wellsprings and figure out who, what, where and how Second Chance had appeared in this universe, and where their path had taken them. It had become their theory that these people who claimed they were from another world had something to do with some kind of drastic measures taken in Capitol City - some kind of top-secret plan that invoked Universal-Tier Ritual magic only written about in the oldest tomes from The Mythic Age. But something must have gone wrong.

And with that theory, and no way to confirm it, due to the Wellsprings limiting communication around Mytheria, Valhiem's top brass had no choice but to take matters into their own hands. Clarissa Shields, Director of Reasearch and Technology would continue to study the mysterious cube that Second Chance had brought to her, and desperately hope to figure it out enough that it might help them in the Witch Queen's coming seige. Reginald, Director of Advanced Magic Development, would try to recover the 'damaged goods.'

But he would not explain himself to a subordinate.

"You are not paid to think or ask questions, Melery." Reginald turned to the other wizards. "Have the spells been prepped and charged?"

"Yes sir," was the answer in unison from all four of the best wizards in his department.

"Then let us begin."

And so, spaced out around the exhumed corpse of Clive Michel, Hero from the Sky... Five wizards, Five for the Quinity, Five to represent the Domains except Dark. Dark would be represented by the corpse. Dark Domain Source would be the conduit for everything.

The ritual began. There was no going back. Without a pardon from the Emperor himself, they would all be trailed and executed for this abominable crime of defying the cycle of Life and Death, defying The Quinity. Defying Source itself.

And Clive Michel would awaken.



Somewhere miles and miles north of Valhiem, the Diamond Tier famous party, True Grade had set up camp. Chatting, cooking, preparing magical trip wires around the camp so that there would be no need for a watch and all could sleep well.

"So this loudmouth is stood on a table, actually taking credit for killing Aurok the Maneater." The deep voice of Braxus represented his 6'6" massive frame of hulking muscle. "And there are others in the tavern actually confirming his tall tale, saying that the Source Code spoke it true, and they got the reward from the Guild."

"Must've been pretty powerful. I wonder why his party isn't being sent to the frontlines. Maybe it was some low-Platinum party that just got lucky. What did you make of him, Braxxus?"

"I cast identify and I swear, I've seen stronger Vodka's made with pisswater."

Everyone chuckled. Glee John Artorius, the party Druid did too. He was one busy cooking. He was also one of the more thoughtful and less ego-driven in his party. And this didn't add up. Just like someone else, he'd met in Valhiem, who didn't add up either. Adam Phillips, he remembered. How could he forget? It wasn't everyday you bumped into a unatural prodigy who was so unbelievabley talented, it made one question the laws of the universe. "Hey, Braxxus?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get the name?"

"Umm... yeah. Punk always introduced himself as 'Zell Brooks - tell your friends.'"

Wesphalia laugh was musical. "I kinda like him. Sounds like an asshole," she commented.

"Yeah, that's your type," Glee jeered at his friend. Then back to Braxxus. "But I was talking about the name of the party he was with."

"Oh... ummm... oh yeah - Second Chance."

Glee dropped the ladle into the pot and looked at Braxus. "Really?"

"Why, you know them?"

Glee recovered from his sense of surprise and continued to cook. "Well, gather around children, it's storytime with your favourite Druid."



The legend of Second Chance was just beginning. The heights such a legend would go, had yet to be determined. But considering that Diamond Tier parties - the strongest adventurers in Mytheria - were now telling campfire stories about them... it was clear that Second Chance were something truly special.

"Pa, w-what is gonna happen to Daisy?" there was a worried warbling in the youths voice, looking for certainty in his paternal figure yet even the gruff man with his steely blue eyes couldn't look into those of his son's as they stood peering into the barn sunlight flooding in through the barn door he held slightly ajar.

A young mare, his son's horse was on her side amidst the hay and dirt on the barns floor. Jed's jaw was locked in a frown his silence only further worrying his youngest son whose russet locks though usually hiding the boys bright sea green eyes today they shone like little teary emeralds. "Well, she isn't doing well son." it was worse than that, she couldn’t breath. Daisy had been having respiratory issues, but he didn't know how to tell his son.

"Pa is...Is Daisy gonna be okay?" more silence filled the barn, broken by the sound of gnats buzzing and hens quietly clucking, and poor Daisy wheezing.

"Clive, I'll look after her. Go inside and see your mom. Now." young as he was naive Clive didn't know what his father was about to do but when the sound of a gunshot came from the red little barn on their ranch he understood and he wept for Daisy was taken out to pasture.



The darkness that had surrounded Clive moments ago, the sickening snap that filled his ears moments before it all fell away suddenly became replaced by a blinding light that made him squeeze his eyes tight, the sensation of the cold earth beneath him made the farmer shudder.

Memories flooded back to him in a jumble - waking up in a stone coffin along with others in this strange world, their journey and his demise…He remembered like it were just minutes ago the hand around his throat, he almost instinctively reached for his own neck.

Clive's memories before his demise haunted him like a vivid movie reel, each moment etched in his mind. The whispers he heard, a mysterious presence from the surrounding hills, overshadowed even the voices of the wizards and of Reginald.

A strange tug at the back of his mind beckoned him, initially just a faint sensation amidst the confusion of his surroundings. As clarity dawned, he sensed an inexplicable thread connecting him to someone - Zigmund, the man who killed him.

The four subordinate wizards were rather busy fearing for their own futures while Clive’s senses recalibrated. Reginald, however, was coldly assessing the adventurer for any abnormalities. The Director was actually ready to kill Clive if he showed any signs of corruption.

“Clive Michel?” Less a question. Less a greeting. More a statement to get the man’s attention. “You have been resurrected from death. The purpose is not yet clear, but we intend to push ahead. Rise to your feet, adventurer. You’re coming with us.” Then he turned to his subordinates. “Pack up everything. Each minute that passes will make getting back into the city more difficult.”

After that, it was assumed by the Director that Clive Michel would simply follow orders. Little did he know that Texans can be rather unruly stallions. Hopefully for him, Clive would be compliant and he wouldn’t have to find out.

However Clive didn't have time to comply with the contingent of wizards nor this short man, order or not he had it on good authority that wherever Zigmund was there would be trouble.

“Shucks, talk about a rude awakening…Unfortunately mister I ain't coming with you so if ya'll just excuse me-” in typical Clive fashion the broad shouldered farmer turned slightly nor taking the man's words too seriously while his hair tousled as his attention snapped to something that the wizards couldn't hear.

Reginald wheeled around, the farmer was wasting time and worse yet seemed to think he had a choice in the matter of where and when he'd go “It wasn't a question, you will come with us or-” the gnome sputtered, the Texan was rushing towards the whispers and the pull of the thread. The Director raised a hand to cast a paralysis spell, but his instincts stopped him. And curiosity took over him. What was this strange man so drawn too? Did it have something to do with a greater plan that Valhiem’s highest officials had not yet figured out?

Clive didn't care about them odd looking men in their robes, they looked like they were about to piss themselves much less intervene.

“Clive Michel!” Reginald shouted, suddenly furious at his own hesitation, that had let Clive get out of range of any spells he could use instantly without ‘damaging the goods’ yet again. He’d been indecisive. And he hated indecisiveness. “Guards! After him! And you too,” he ordered the wizards. “Make sure he’s not killed again.”

Normally not one to cuss, the farmer now spat a string of good old fashioned Texan cursing as jumped down rocks and cut across the footpath where possible.. Hell or high water he wasn't gonna outrun no dang horses thump-thump, thump-thump Clive's heart raced, lit out he was and running out of time as the thunderous beating of hooves rumbled behind him.

As Clive ran down the lower hill and through the fields, his heart pounding in his chest, the memory of Daisy, his beloved horse, flooded his mind. Maybe he wanted to remember her before he died again, maybe he was grasping for anything to give him hope.

Despite that pain of the memories he had hope, and in his usual way he stayed brave in the face of danger.

Maybe…In a moment of instinctual desperation, Clive found himself whistling softly, a tune taught to him by his father during their rides together. As the notes floated through the air, a ghostly figure materialized before him - Daisy, radiant and ethereal.

Clive only had time to mouth the words ‘Jesus Christ’, sparing not a moment longer as he mounted upon his old faithful friend without another second of hesitation.

It was fortunate, summoning the spectral horse caused a ripple amongst Reginald's men and women. Their horses whinnied and reared up in total surprise at this ghostly horse. The bodyguard of The Academy were terrified, having never seen anything like it in their lives.

“By the Quinity!”

Some fell off their horses. The closest man to apprehending Clive turned his horse away so as to not get too close. A summoned horse!? In that manner!? One could only assume it was more Dark Domain madness, allowed into the world through the gate they’d created by breaking the laws of Mytheria and resurrecting this man. May the Quinity help them all.

With a thunderous gallop, Daisy carried Clive away from the chaos behind him, the pounding hooves behind them fading into the distance, holding onto reins of spectral light that he flicked lightly urging on his steed.

Adam and Zell passed eachother in the entrance hall, the Druid coming in as the Fighter was going out. Upon seeing the younger man, Zell smiled. Not his usual one-sided grin. Not a cocky smirk. Simply a tired and warm smile for his friend. They didn't stop to talk - talking one on one wasn't something Adam and Zell did often - but as their paths crossed, Zell reached across the man to give him a pat on the opposite-side shoulder. And then one went further inside, while the other went outside.

Upon hitting that crisp night air, Zell took a big whiff, letting out a "Whew!" to exhale, forcing some energy. As tired as he was, he was not ready to sleep just yet. Not that he was scared of sleeping. Never that. Of course not. Zell wasn't scared of anything. Ha! Zell? Scared? Don't be ridiculous.

He took a slow strolling pace, looking at the stars as he made his way to the edge of the plateau, where the steps down Temple Hill began. There, he stopped, got off the path a little and posted up against a stone column, arms folded, looking out onto the view of Northern Central Mytheria's silouette.

"Fucking hell," Zell said aloud, feeling the ache of his wounds through James' bandages and 'first aid stuff.' "If that's a Gold Tier contract, I dread to think what lurks in this world."

True as that might be, what was important is that they had indeed completed a Gold Contract, which meant that Second Chance's party classification would make one big leap from 'Brand new Bronze Tier Registrar' straight to 'Silver Tier with access to the Source Comm' in just a single, relatively quick mission. And that meant answers. Zell was sure of it. It was one thing that he, Fenna and MacKensie were instinctively certain of.

~~~~"There's a message in your Source Comm. But you've only just registered so how...?" Even the Adventurer's Guildmaster was confused.~~~~

Not surprising really, Zell thought. Fucking ANYTHING related to people from another planet is bound to confuse the shit out of anyone.

Still, that message. A message left for them. By a sender who surely had answers as to why they were here.

Zell sighed loudly, continuing to stare sightlessly into the dark. He would have to sleep soon. But not just yet.

"It's okay," she whispered frantically. Barracker stiffened up. It is not okay. "It's okay." She held on tight to him. Barracker’s breathing was still irritant but his voice stayed level.

“MacKensie, I… This is not normal.”

"It's okay, my friend." Her voice was soothing and soft but this affliction had plagued his mind and body, and soul for years. "You are not alone. We are Second Chance. You need not turn away. It's okay."

“MacKensie Trydant, your words are whole-heartedly felt but you are holding a monster.” Barracker said through gritted teeth.

"You are not a monster. You are a righteous. You are a defender."

“And you are angelic. As merciful as ‘The Mother’. I do not deserve this.”

"It is not your fault that you carry this affliction. You are no less a Paladin. The gods allow you. A hero who protects the innocent."

The Ranger wore the Paladin down to silence, he simply could not contend with her kindness. And there they remained, with her arms around him, for a long moment. Until she came to sit next to him. Then there was further silence. He still felt shame but not because of her, she had a way of making it not awkward. It was quite settling in a way, comforting you might say.

"How did it all begin?"" She asked tentatively.

Barracker for a brief moment tensed up, remembering that day so vividly. “Another time my friend,” he replied weakly. “It is too much for me right now.”

"How has it affected your life?"

This question, he could answer. So he vented off some distraughts he had about how life had handed him a twisted fate. “Well, the innocents fear me. My home city has outcasted me and so I outcasted myself from my loved one.” He sighed with love on the mind. “Evelyne. Oh, Evelyne. The love of my life. I pushed her away. Distancing myself was all I knew, and all I could do. A Vampire Paladin… a monster that hunts monsters. She did not deserve to be chained to such a twisted joke. ‘The Order’ have not forced me out, but they all have made it clear that I do not belong.” He paused to let her absorb his story. “And then one day, the High Septum suddenly forced me into the path of you all.” He chuckled. “Areleth often does things like that, but this seemed like such a bad idea. On the day I was to meet your leader, I asked Hades for a sign. I asked him to reveal my destiny. And no less than an hour later, James revealed your party name…. Second Chance.” He smiled with both pain and pleasure. “Second Chance. And you have all been so accepting.”

Barracker stopped and then let MacKensie respond. "We are from another world. I died in my world. Second Chance really is my second chance at life. At companionship. Please, Barracker... let it be your second chance too."

Barracker placed a hand on hers and thanked her deeply from the bottom of his heart. Then he agreed to accept her offer for this second chance. And then they remained in silent companionship for a short moment before he asked politely to be left alone in the shrine room, so that he could practise his worship to the shrine-statue of Hades, that had been the only witness to their touching encounter.

Once alone and finished with his worshipping, he stood up and his face hardened. Sterner than stone, his fists clenched. “Viktor Battousai, we will meet one day out there on the battlefield.”

He went to the temple dormitory and found a bed to sleep in.

MacKensie went to go and eat after leaving the shrine room. In the kitchen, she sat and processed Barracker's words, his emotions and his demeanour. What that led to was rather unexpected. She thought that sympathy would dominate her conclusion, but while that was most certainly present, it was not what grabbed her. What grabbed her was a momumental admiration for Barracker Kassel. How could a man whose life had taken such a bad turn manage to maintain such composure and level-headedness... such honour and unshakeable principles? It could have been so easy to throw away everything in the face of such persecution and prejudice. But he hadn't. He was a rock of righteousness. Of course, it could not escape her that he'd lost his true love in this process. Perhaps one day, when she knew him better, she might suggest - convince - that he should reconnect with Evelyne. In truth, it was none of her business, but she felt a duty to her sense of romance that she bring up that conversation one day in the future.

With everyone settling down to sleep, she decided to go outside to be alone. It felt like a victory in itself to just walk out of the temple entrance, after going in and facing what they did. There was pride too. Pride to be in such amazing company. Everyone in their group was such an unbelievable person of strength and character. She would die (again) for her new friends. They all meant so much to her and she would strive to meet their standards - to be worthy of them.

Her silent Ranger footsteps, in the night, made her nigh undetectable. This was probably how she managed to get to the steps of Temple Hill without alerting the other man out here. And perhaps it was her preoccupied mind that was the reason her Ranger perception did not sense him.

When Zell sighed loudly, "Eek!" MacKensie jumped out of her skin. "Zell."

Of all the people to run into, he was one of two she'd rather have avoided. Hard to run away now. "What are you doing out here? You should be resting your injuries." She shuffled a bit of dirt about with her feet, until finally deciding to walk around to the other side of big pillar he was leaning against, then mirrored him and leaned against the stone, lightly grinding her thumbnails against eachother and looking out into the night as they conversed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Eek!"

"!!!" Zell's soul damn-near jumped out of his body. He almost fell over.

"Zell."

"Christ Almighty, woman, I'm having a heart attack," He shook his head in shock as he gripped his chest, back against the column. "How the hell did you... can you teleport!?"

In the end, he laughed. It was funny. But he was now acutely aware that MacKensie did in fact make zero noise when moving around. He even recalled previous moments in their time in this world. She was like some super assassin. He recovered his original position, leaning his shoulder against the column and folding his arms. "Got it done, eh," he said to her. "Gold contract. Wasn't easy, but we got weeks of adventurer work done in four days. Source Comm, here we come."

When she posted up on the opposite side of the column, he smiled. Two badasses, yin and yang, looking into the night, talking through a wall. It was kinda cool. "What are you doing out here? You should be resting your injuries."

"I should," he had to concede. Stab wound in the abdomen. Nasty bubbling scar developing on the shoulder, from the ghost blade that nearly cut his arm off. A rest would tie him over until he could pay a visit to that Tiefling, 'Ms Devil Doctor' from Valhiem's magic hospital. Oh how proudly he would show off being back so soon. Take it slow, she said. He grinned to himself. I'm Zell fucking Brooks. Take it slow, like fuck I will. But back to the current conversation. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tired."

They traded a couple of short stories about how they got their injuries. Zell complimented her on her tenacity. And, he suddenly remembered, "Holy shit, doll. Back in that library. I was busy dealing with my own particular brand of pain-in-the-arse. But I clearly remember seeing you burst from a wall of fire like a god-damn phoenix, machine gunning down bad guys in mid air." Zell let out a breath, shaking his head as he stared sightlessly into the dark. "It was glorious - Serving them that 'MacFlurry.' If I wasn't avoiding getting my head chopped off, I would've given you a standing ovation."

A comfortable silence fell on them for a minute.

"How are you feeling?"

Zell guessed she was talking more than injuries now. Perhaps the emotional weight of the job. Maybe just general morale. Or anything bothering him? Didn't matter. Zell would answer the same way to her as to anyone in the group... except maybe James.

"Bloody fantastic, sweetheart," he replied casually. "I'm having so much fun. Just saved a bunch of towns from a demon-thingy. The Heroes from the Sky are at it again." He grinned. "This is a damn sight better than being at Uni, studying Psychology and..."

Managing a miniature drug empire.

"...roll call for football training." That was a close one. God help his chances of securing this drinks date they'd been flirting with if Ms Stiff-as-a-Plank found out he was selling everything under the sun at City, London University. "To be honest, MacKensie - and this is gonna sound pretty mad - but I'm over the whole 'getting hit by a bus' thing. Truly. I'm a pretty simple guy. Adaptable. And I'm here now, dealing with it. And I can live with that.

Especially with you around."

He let that last sentence marinate. So far, it had all been banter between them. A bit of honesty from him was past it's due date. "I still want answers though. Ending up in this weird world was no accident. And I've got a fair few questions for whoever has the answers."

On top the tiredness, pain made him check his injuries. James had done a great job, but blood still stained his bandages, and there was no magic cure for soreness, it seemed. He really did need to lie down. Like, now.

"Thanks too," he admitted. "For blowing up at me on the temple roof, this afternoon. With great power comes great responsibility. Sounds pretty damn cringe, but it's true." The cringe was worse than the actual physical pain. "Being a hero ain't half bad. I'll try and take a little bit more seriously." And of course, he couldn't help himself and added, "A teeeeeny little bit."

"How about you doll? You doing alright?" he asked, trying to stop his voice from softening - failing a little at the end, but back to a strong and cocky tone as he continued. "You manage to stop overthinking that problem of yours?"

Zell and Fenna were the most injured by his observations, Adam had the fortune of blocking most of the damage while Mac was agile enough to dodge everything sent her way, he was worried for Kass but trusted that the other man to come to him if his injuries required it. As soon as he finished mending his party members he set his sights on the other patients.

Looking at the excultists he couldn't help but remember the photos of post-disaster victims, the haunted looks, the fearful gazes, the way they seemed wary of every shadow or the glossy eyes too lost in their own minds.

They had talked about what to do with them so he supposed that it was his duty as the leader to make the announcement.

He let out a breath, better get to it.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

In the end it was easy to gather them all in an unused room, he chose against using the rooms where they fought for obvious reasons. Looking at them he couldn't help but feel pity, most of them were adults of varying ages but he could spy a couple of teenagers here and there, the youngest of them being 13 by his estimations.

They looked back at him murmuring something or the other that he couldn't make out.

Now how was he going to do this?

Ah!

With a flourish he pulled the anchor from his back and slammed it on the floor, keeping his hands on the ring at the top, he kept his expression stern but internally cringed as the villagers fliched, that hadn't been his intention "My name is James Sirius, Cleric and leader of the adventurer party Second Chance and as I am sure you all have discovered the Greater Wraith is no more" Remember, keep your voice calm but strong, relaxed but confident, non forced eye contact is good "I will not assume to understand what you have been trough but take reassurance, the gods shall no judge you for that which you had no control over and neither shall your fellow men" From what he had seen so far their society valued religious reasurance and that was something he could give freely "My party will stay the night and tomorrow we will make the journey back to Cherrad, if you wish to accompany us that is okay, if you desire to brave the wilds by yourself that is your desicion and we will not stop you, you are no longer under the yoke of that monster, you are free"

He would answer any questions they may have and then he would hit the sack, he felt like someone had punched his everything and he wanted nothing more than to pass out for a couple days.

It was true; being a hero had an incredibly fulfilling aspect to it. Her parents had always taught her, "The key to happiness is purpose. The key to purpose is duty. The key to duty is discipline." Her mother had even once told her that even the beauty of marriage was almost as much about duty as it was about love. It had sounded so strange to her at the time. It still did. But when it came to this Gold Contract, the discipline and duty they had shown had brought them success. And a heroic purpose certainly did feel like happiness, even the with injuries and fatigue. In this moment, she felt an extra pride to be a Trydant. She missed her family so much, but she knew she would be making them proud, if they knew what she was going through.

"To be honest, MacKensie - and this is gonna sound pretty mad - but I'm over the whole 'getting hit by a bus' thing. Truly. I'm a pretty simple guy. Adaptable. And I'm here now, dealing with it. And I can live with that."

How!? A question she found herself asking over and over when it came to this man. Underneath all that bravado, it would seem that he really was as tough as he portrayed. Physically and mentally.

"...Especially with you around."

And always knew how to make her go red as a beetroot. Thank goodness it was dark and they were out of eachothers sight. After a silence that was very awkward for her, he continued, and she would agree quite emphatically. "Yes, I do not intend to go anywhere else in Valhiem until we find out what is in that Source Comm. I must know who or what is behind all of this." She was so deadly serious, but couldn't help but chuckle at the previous phrase that had been rolling around in her mind since he'd said it. He'd turned her special attack into a McDonalds icecream product. "A 'MacFlurry.' When do you have time to come up with this nonsense?" Her smile was for the dark, but indicative in her tone.

"Thanks too," he admitted. In her surprise, she looked in his direction, although from this position, she was simply looking at a view of stone. "For blowing up at me on the temple roof, this afternoon. With great power comes great responsibility. Sounds pretty damn cringe, but it's true."

"It is not cringey, I do not think," she answered sharply, straightening up with an air of haughtiness. "It is noble and dignified. We are heroes now and we must act accordingly."

"Being a hero ain't half bad. I'll try and take a little bit more seriously." And of course, he couldn't help himself and added, "A teeeeeny little bit."

She shook her head. "I suppose every journey starts with a small step in the right direction."

"How about you doll? You doing alright?"

She sighed. "I will be fine, I think. I am not so adaptable as you. Many things weigh on me. And I miss my family so much. My friends. My life. I am not sure if it is fortune or misfortune that; I do not have much time to dwell on these things. My problems in this world are as much as I can handle. But I can and will handle them. I will do my part for the success of our team. For the friendship and bonds we have."

"You manage to stop overthinking that problem of yours?"

"Oh, ummm..." And she thought of a way to lie without lying. "Actually, yes. And I have you to thank in many ways for it. Whenever I had time to think, my balance would fail me. My reflexes. My agility. The deaths of Clive and Arthur had made me so fearful of my life. I became so precoccupied with failure to execute my Ranger abilities. The more I was careful... the more I concentrated... the worse this problem became. I was certain I would never be able to be zooming and flipping around like I was in our previous battles. But I realised that in last battle just now: When thinking about every aim, every foot-placement, every precise angle of my grapplehook... it is impossible." Her mind went to when James called out to her to go get the phylactery. How she responded. "But when all of these thoughts simply cannot be organised - or even thought of, in the first place, for there is simply no time - that is when I can be MacKensie Trydant, the Ranger." She knew that he would understand, in spite of her long-winded and possibly confusing explanation. "I must sometimes trust 'not to think,' when it comes to my ability."

And now she was the one who could not help herself, and added, "I must be a mindless gorilla like you." She covered her mouth to hold back any noise of her laugh until she could control herself. "Now go and get some sleep, Zell Brooks. I hear it in your voice - you are dying in pain just to stand there. Go."

Whether he left or not, for her she would stand for a while longer at Temple Hill steps. Eventually she would grab her bedroll and make a semi-comfortable seat at the foot of the pillar, wrapping her cloak tight about her and maybe managing a few hours of sleep.

One thing was for certain: She would not be caught dead sleeping in that Temple. It creeped her out, to no end.

After freeing the Temple of Hades from the grasp of the Drath'tuthan, the Greater Wraith, the combined efforts of each party members' ways and means of dealing with the former cult members brought a considerable sense of hope and relief. James Sirius' announcement was powerful, smart enough to use the high religiosity of Mytherians to get across important points. Adam Phillips' willingness to try to understand how people were feeling, in spite of their atrocities, came across genuinely to the guilty. Fenna Postma's kindness and reassurances, in spite of her tiredness, was felt and appreciated. The one man Zell had bothered to give a stern approach to, was suprsingly empowered.

Most of the former cult members chose not to stay, and left in the night to go home, sticking to the roads and large groups for safety. A quiet had fallen on the temple by a time shortly after midnight, leaving a decent amount of hours for sleep.

But it was not a full sleep, and therefore Second Chance would only regain 70% of their health, and any injuries would heal well, but would not FULLY heal without visiting a hospital that had departments specializing in Source Crystal technology, such as Valhiem's hospital.

Also, any spells that would usually recover each day, would only replenish by +1. However, any gains from the recent Ascension would be fully available.





In the early hours of the morning, just before sunrise...





His visor, much like the rest of his armour, was a steel-alloy mix of foriegn technology and Dark Domain Source. Through it, he scanned for Source Crystal users in the area. As he looked up to the summit Temple Hill, there he saw someone looking back.

"The Ranger," he said to himself.

There were two Rangers, he remembered, but while one managed to pester him like an unswattable fly, that was not this one. This was the weakling he had dealt with effortlessly, even almost managing to kill her at one point, if not for the chaos of the battlefield inside The Mazy Hillocks. He'd made a terrible error to confront them in such unpredicatable terrain. But this time would be different.

"I'm coming."

He flew like the wind, needing no steps or steady inclines. Up the hill he went in the virtually straight line, powerful strides, leaps and sprinting. But it wasn't the smallest hill. It took a little time to scale Temple Hill, but once at the top, it was quiet and clear. No distractions. Nowhere to run. Nothing would save them this time.

"Once a party of 9," he recollected to onlookers as he stood, feet apart, arms open in mockery, welcoming an attack. "There are less of you now. And the wizard girl will sadly not be joining you again either. We had an intimate chat on the roads outside Valhiem." Lillianna, presumed dead. At the very least, left to die in a ditch. "I had a lot of fun with her. A shame that her fragile wizard body could not last longer."

Oh how Zigmund would savor this revenge. His ego had been bruised so badly in The Mazy Hillocks. Aurok the Maneater had ruined everything. And he made Lillianna pay dearly. But his pound of flesh would be taken from them all.

"I saw how you survived Aurok. One of you gave your lives. I seem to remember snapping the neck of one of you too. Hmmm... consider those weaklings the lucky ones. Back then...? I was at less than half of my real strength."



Within seconds, water droplets formed in the air, making a circle arcing over his head and touching the ground. The droplets grew massive, then transformed into various weapons: Swords, axes, javelins, halberds... all kinds. Then they became water droplets again and flew back into Zigmund's body.

"This is where you all die."

He rushed forward, jumped into the air and summoned a massive battleaxe in the air - first water before turning to solid steel. It was the size of Valhiem's biggest statues.

The attack was unblockable and targeted MacKensie Trydant and anyone within five feet of her. The steel battleaxe came crashing down smashing not just the ground but destroying the temple entrance too. The attack was completely unblockable.

A direct hit to MacKensie and ANYONE within five feet of her would deal incredible damage. Those who managed to dodge would still feel the pain of the explosion of earth and stone that happened from the impact.

As Zigmund landed, he got ready to attack his next target............................

Adam woke up early in the morning, surprised he didn't sleep in further. It had been a tough battle yesterday, so why wasn't he more tired? It was a mystery, one the Druid decided wasn't that big of a deal. Instead, he went to the kitchen and focused his energy on eating a breakfast consisting of a few sliced apples and a bowl of oatmeal. Nothing exciting to be sure, but he didn't want to risk waking anyone else up. Everyone had been brave and risked their lives to complete the mission; they deserved to sleep in as much as they wanted.

Having decided to wait on his team, Adam walked outside the temple only to find MacKensie Trydant curled up in her cloak against a pillar. He warmly smiled, his fondness for the Ranger evoked without a single word. The cloth had apparently loosened overnight though, and the red-eyed man thought she seemed a little cold, or at least less comfortable than she should be. Therefore, he took off his jacket and slowly placed it around her, careful not to wake the woman up. 

Glancing around after this, the Druid saw a small cobblestone path. With not much else to do, he decided to quietly walk down it and see where it led to. And Adam's curiosity was rewarded; at the end of the path was a nice garden, with a small stone shrine in the center made in dedication to Hades, maybe big enough for one person to fit inside. It seemed to be designed so someone can comfortably kneel and pray, so the fisherman guessed that the temple's normal inhabitants or parishioners use this place for quiet reflection or prayer.

There was also a stone bench nearby, where he decided to sit instead of the shrine. It seemed disrespectful to occupy a place of a god that he didn't know much about. Maybe he could ask Barracker or James to fill in that knowledge gap, Adam thought.

There was a lot to think about, actually. Where would the group go after the “Source comm” message was revealed? What sort of missions would higher-ranked teams get? What if more members of the group fell? How were his parents, brother, and friends doing?

…would he ever go home?

These sorts of questions took up an uncertain amount of time in Adam's head. Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing without moving forward and facing it head-on. The uncertainty wasn't the greatest, but the Druid knew he would do his best to overcome any-

MacKensie!

Her voice rang clear as the day in Adam’s head. Immediately he knew there was no time for questions now; her and the rest of the team were in danger. It was time for action! The red-eyed man jumped off the bench and ran back towards the temple. As he got closer though, he heard a huge explosion! A cloud of dust started to rise in the air, concerning him even more. Approaching the scene of the battle, Adam saw the cause; Zigmund Mugba-Zarak. 

Time for action, indeed. After making sure nobody was in immediate danger, the Druid magically manifested some roots around the water ninja, attempting to entangle the being and restrain him. The same roots that had been effective the last time they had met. Adam didn't have any illusions of beating this creature easily but he knew he would do his best to do so.

She awoke with a deep breath, snuggling the thick, nice-smelling jacket up to her chin and almost dozing off again. Without even opening her eyes, she knew it must be still dark, for surely the eastern light would be doing it's best to ruin her half-asleep comfort right now. There she stayed for a while longer, but no more sleep was to be found. This is not the most optimal position for rest, her back told her. Who does this jacket belong too? her nose asked. Thank the lord we might go back to Valhiem and have a few days off, said the scabbing slash wounds on her waist and forearm.

When she finally opened her eyes, she saw a paling sky. Sunrise was approaching. After standing up, she stretched her arms and tried to work out the kinks in her neck and back. The coat she had in her hand was instantly recognisable and she smiled. Adam. Of course. He must already be up, she mused, although looking around, there was no sign of him.

However, something did catch her notice. Her sharp eyes saw a figure at the bottom of the hill. There was a person just standing there, and it felt like they were looking right back at her. And then she saw the red light - coming from the facial area - and it felt like she'd just been washed over by a bar-code scanner.

"Sacre bleu!"

Instantly, she turned and sprinted toward the temple, adrenaline flowing like white-water rapids. "EVERYONE!!!" she screamed as loud as her lungs could manage as she passed under the entrance. She kicked every door in the entrance hall open, shouting over and over, "THE NINJA! THE NINJA IS HERE!!!"

Could they even hear her in this massive place? She dared to run further into the main corridor to scream her lungs out yet again. But she dared not waste anymore time. There were still a few civilians in the temple who'd chosen not to go home in the night. Imagine if the ninja got inside the temple and she lost track of him in this maze of a temple? The havoc he could create! She could not - would not - leave the entrance to the temple unguarded! And so she ran back outside and stood her ground in front of the large religious building.

"Calm. Focus. Don't forget to breathe." The Olympic archer in her coming out. Come on, guys, she pleaded, her heart pounding.

By the time the metal ninja was in front of her, her weapons were brandished, crossbow ready and bolts between the fingers of the hand holding her dagger.

"Once a party of 9..." Yes, talk. Need more time. "There are less of you now. And the wizard girl will sadly not be joining you again either."

MacKensie gasped, her bottom lip shaking. "Lillianna."

"I had a lot of fun with her. A shame that her fragile wizard body could not last longer."

Her eyes watered and her legs felt weak. Her stomach churned. She even had to look away, chin-to-shoulder as his words shook her core.

"I saw how you survived Aurok. One of you gave your lives. I seem to remember snapping the neck of one of you too. Hmmm... consider those weaklings the lucky ones. Back then...? I was at less than half of my real strength."

Lies! she had to tell herself as her emotions channeled into anger. She looked back at the ninja, determined to be strong, fury fuelling her stand.



His display was like he was daring her to call his bluff, but she refused to allow it to affect her building rage and mental strength. She did not avert her gaze, she used all the time that he would allow to keep building and building... Lillianna! ...and building and building... Clive! ...and building and building... Arthur!

His attack triggered her into action, she ran at him. But as he jumped and summoned the biggest weapon she'd ever seen, her agility and reflexes allowed her to react, although there was no possible way - not even with her speed - to completely avoid damage and she was knocked flying from the impact of the crashing attack. She bounced like a ragdoll as her body hit the ground, but the second time she hit the ground she was rolling back to her feet, ignoring the pain and ripped sleeve of her tunic. She ran towards a flanking position, firing off shots, then as she saw the roots come out of the ground, she realised who had joined the fight.

"Adam!"

And she reacted, firing her grapplehook at the ground between the feet of Zigmund, then leaned back and surfed the dirt at high speed into close quarters combat. If he moved, she would adjust. Once in range, she flew into dagger attacks and close range shots.

Zigmund summoned not just a water blade but dual blades of water that turned into steel. With his full power, water-absorbant roots would not be enough.



And yet as he cut them, he still felt pain. Water blades upgrade-transformed to steel and yet the roots could still absorb his life force. This Druid attack was 3x more powerful than last time. No... 5x more powerful! But it was a mere bit of pain and his blades cut away any root that tried to entangle him, before jumping up, backwards and out of the root growth.

And then in mid air... before he could even land... he was forced to- CLASH! -block.



Zigmund and MacKensie were practicly stuck together as gravity brought them to the ground. His head tilted sharply to one side to dodge her close-range shot. And when they landed, Zigmund put more effort in to break her pressure and shove her dagger aside.

Then, in a split-target combination, he attempted to stab her with his 2nd of his dual blades, skipped backward, then turned and hurled one blade at the Druid.

Clive rode swiftly upon his spectral steed, the wind whipping through his hair as they raced towards an unknown destination that somehow called to the resurrected farm boy.

Zigmund - the dark figure shrouded in black and encased in metal, Clive couldn't help but remember the brutal and swift strength of that man. The thought made him urge on the ethereal spirit of his beloved riding horse.

Daisy complied with a shake of her mane, picking up her pace into a full gallop the wind screeching in Clive's ears, whipping through his hair forced to squint he leaned forward atop his steed.

Thoughts of the strangers he awoke with in the coffins back in the village some time ago lingered in his thoughts, feeling a sense of imminent danger for them as he raced across the fields of the northern planes that dotted Mytheria.

Their journey had yet to have been that long, cut short for him he never quite knew if they had reached their destination and like hell he was gonna bury the hatchet yet not when he had a second chance.

"I'm coming you lot...Wherever the heck ya'll are..I'm coming for you Zigmund." as they rode ever more closer through the hills and dales, he swore to make Zigmund pay if the folks he would hope to call his friends came to harm.

And he promised himself he'd look after them, especially that troublesome boy - Zell, that's his name, kid seemed to be something of a free spirit or maybe a bit too free Clive thought to himself with a slight smirk, though it seemed the others tempered him a little like MacKenzie.

Clive couldn't think of someone more screwed tighter than the deadlock bolt on an old shed door, though she had a bit of a temper on her she was a good genuine person that he knew everyone could depend on especially that Adam fella or James.

Both men seemed to need all the confidence they could get both put in positions that forced them to make the big decisions Clive knew it must have been something of a burden if they blamed themselves for one of their own lot dying.

Then he remembered one last person - Fenna, and the tug of a smile pulled at the corners of Clive's mouth and he recalled a couple times they fought side by side.

Helping that child and mother, talking as they journeyed away from the village they helped evacuate. Clive felt a little bad he never warmed up to the other, truthfully he had still been in internal shock but he promised once he found them he'd be on them like a fly on honey.

He wondered if they were all okay, and hoped he wouldn't be too late as he kept inching closer and closer to the beckoning call of the ethereal string he felt tugging at him.

Few other thoughts lingered upon his conscience, lingering doubts and a concern - he wondered if some before had fallen like he had. Yet the farmer shook aside the thoughts for the time, he had to catch Zigmund and make sure he never lifted a finger again this time permanently.

As Barracker woke to the sounds of screams, he was up immediately. He felt mostly healed and fresh from a goodnight sleep, helped by his encounter with MacKensie. "THE NINJA! THE NINJA IS HERE!!!"

MacKensie. His vampire hearing heard her words clearly, then he remembered from Zell’s tale of what Second Chance members have been through. This ninja seems powerful and would be a dangerous threat. The Paladin rushed up, threw on his leather jerkin, boots and grabbed his tower shield and claymore. He ran up the set of stairs, connecting the basement to the ground level of the temple. As he was running, he shoulder charged through two doors in a row, placed his visor on and was unwilling to contend with the maze of rooms to get to the entrance. Barracker used the table as a launch pad to hurl himself through the highly placed stained glass window. In a shower of shattering colored glass, he landed in the courtyard and saw MacKensie facing off with the mysterious enemy.

The Paladin could hear such pain in MacKensie’s voice as he came to her side. "Lillianna."

"I had a lot of fun with her. A shame that her fragile wizard body could not last longer." The mysterious opponent bragged.

Now the vampire understood. He had not known Lillianna long but it struck a nerve that would urge him to fight harder than ever. “Today there will be justice for the dead.”

As this new threat kept talking, he listened closely, ready to react to any attack thrown his way, but also noticed in the corner of his eye, the demeanour of his friend. “Be brave, MacKensie,” he whispered to his comrade, although he could see by the display of power he realized that this would be mightily tough.

"This is where you all die."

“MacKensie, wait,” Barracker rushes after her as she charges, but the Ranger was so fast now he failed to keep up with her. Then the colossal weapon materializes, and evasive action was required. Barracker leaped out of the immediate danger zone, quickly muttering the word for his transmutation spell, ‘StoneSkin.’ With the combination of StoneSkin and clever use of his tower shield, he evaded taking any damage from the blast radius.

He spent a millisecond’s thought lamenting the damage to his god's temple, but the better part of his mind was focused on Adam's arrival and the incredible synchronicity of Adam and MacKensie’s attack. He spared no time to join in, swift and true and currently made of stone, he charged in.

His first act was to intercept the incoming stab attempt on MacKensie, letting his stone skin instantly put a stop to the lethal steel. Then when Zigmund went after Adam, Barracker followed with fury, “Today there will be justice for the dead members of Second Chance,” and entered into a homing whirlwind of shield bashes and sweeps, greatsword swings and stabs, ending his furious combination with a flip into an aerial downwards haymaker slash.

The blade Zigmund tried to stab MacKensie with, snapped in two against the sudden appearance of a stone body. It took a second for the broken blade to turn to water, reform and turn back to steel, although by this time Zigmund was already moving to try and throw a blade at Adam. But he didn't get a chance to see if his blade landed because, another was hot on his tail.

Who is this one? His technique is powerful, polished, ferocious. A tower shield AND claymore? He is no ordinary human.

After feeling the power increase of the weaklings, Zigmund was no longer toying around and started to warm up. He was equal, just barely, to Barracker's offensive. He evaded the claymore, parried where possible, braced and took the shield bash on his shoulder - a price to avoid the shield swipe that might have broken his helmet.

When Zigmund found some space and time, his blades, including the one he'd thrown at Adam, turned to water to flew back to his body. Then he summoned a large, two-handed bardiche - water upgrade-tranformed into Titanrock(a rare material that rivalled orichalcum.)

I can match him now, he edges me attack-frequency but I edge him in attack-speed. They found a competent addition in Valhiem. Power. Experience.

In one moment, his Titanrock Bardiche- CLASH -met equally the Orichalcum Claymore, and Zigmund leaned his head right up to Barracker's face.

"Vampire," he assessed. Then he head-butted Barracker to break their lock.

The final aerial attack from Barracker forced Zigmund to block, bringing him to one knee, holding the claymore from coming down on him.

For the next few moments, Zigmund could not move as he held off Barracker's greatsword. The next attack would automatically land and depending on who and how they took advantage of a free attack, it was a chance to do huge damage.

The forest was quiet in the dark hours, but when the sky turned lighter, before the sun revealed itself, birds already started to wake up and greeted each other and the world around them. Sil had spent the night outside, but it wasn't just the lighter sky and the small birds that woke her up. A sound that did not belong. When Zigmund scanned the area, Sil examined him and recognised the enemy from before. Danger. She kept silent. Danger. Danger. When Zigmund went up the hill, Sil flew up and followed.

Fenna had found a room downstairs with several beds that had been used by the low-ranks who lived and worked in the temple even before the cultists had taken over. She dreamt of Zigmund, the battle they had in the Mazy Hillocks, from bird-eye view. Danger. The feeling of danger was so strong she woke up, rolled out of bed and sat on one knee with a dagger in her hand. What? Where was she? Right, the temple. Groaning, she stood up. Her back still ached from where the wraith had struck her. That's when she heard a voice in the distance.

Ninja? Oh no... She quickly collected the gear she had removed prior to lying down and rushed out. She halted when she realised she didn't remember what way the entrance was. She grabbed the arm of a former cultists who had fled further inside the temple at MacKensies warning.
"The way out," she urged.
"Really? There's..." the cultist began, but her voice trailed away when she saw Fenna's determination. "Okay, this way."
Another cultist entered the room. "There's some kind of ninja outside," he said.
The brainwashed cultists had fought, as that was the only thing they could do. Now that they weren't, any remaining cultists preferred to flee over fighting.
"This way," the woman repeated. "I used to live here before..." she swallowed heavily and didn't finish the sentence. "There is only one entrance, but in case of emergency, there is another way out."

Fenna followed the former cultist as she showed a passage that could only be opened from the inside. From the outside it looked just like the walls of the temple, from the inside the thick iron door was barred and locked. The former cultist removed the iron rods, unlocked it and the three of them pushed it open. Fenna ran around the temple and joined her team after Zigmund destroyed the entrance.

The water ninja attacked MacKensie, and Barracker jumped in to block the attack. The moment Zigmund and Barracker seemed to be at a standstill, Fenna rushed forward with her now 2-meter-long spear, and used the opportunity to stab Zigmund with the tip.