PH1RE'S P.O.V
The chamber still stank of burnt chalk, old water, and blood.
My blood.
I staggered against the wall, one hand pressed to my side. The wound wasn't deep enough to kill—but it was angry. Raw. Each breath felt like I was dragging my lungs across broken glass.
"Loid, stay still!" Maya rushed to me, her voice taut with concern.
"I'm fine," I lied. Even I didn't believe me.
Ethan appeared beside her, already unfastening his satchel. "Don't move," he ordered, his fingers moving with practiced calm as he uncorked a vial of golden liquid.
I hissed as he poured it across the wound. The pain flared white, then dulled—like fire doused in oil. My head swam.
"You're lucky," Ethan muttered. "A few inches deeper and you'd have punctured a lung."
"Yeah," I groaned. "I'm real lucky today."
Cordell hadn't moved from the bounty hunter's side. His fingers were still locked in the man's hair, keeping him dazed with some kind of spell. Even in defeat, the bounty hunter's face looked smug.
His flute—weapon, whatever it was—lay discarded nearby, humming with residual magic. Faint tendrils of violet mist still curled around it, searching the air like antennae.
"Cephurian weapon," Cordell said, finally letting go of the bounty hunter's head. The man slumped unconscious. "Old tech. Illegal. Effective." He glanced my way. "Very effective, apparently."
"He said he was just trying to cash in," I muttered. "I don't buy it."
"Neither do I," Ethan agreed. "That wasn't some common sellsword. He had technique. He was trained."
Cordell turned fully to me now. "He knew your name."
I met his gaze. "He knew more than that."
The weight of it hit me like a second blade. There was a bounty on me.And I nearly got captured for it.
Which, come to think of it, made perfect sense. I was already being hunted by the Cephurian military. Bounty hunters were just another branch of the same poisoned tree.
I sighed. The stab wound still burned like hell, but I wasn't bleeding out anymore. That was something.
Up ahead, Cordell and Ethan stood over the bounty hunter's body, their conversation low and intense.
"All right, both of you," I called, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position. "Start explaining. How did you even know we were following someone? And how'd you find us here?"
"Well…" Ethan started nervously.
"Allow me," Cordell cut in.
"First of all—Maya, Loid of the Red Ravens—I'd like to ask for your forgiveness," he said, offering a small, respectful bow.
"Forgiveness for…?" Maya prompted, crossing her arms.
"You used [Guide] on us, didn't you," I said, the realization settling in.
It made sense, our behavior towards him came out of nowhere and I didn't realize it until this very moment when the guide spell had been released, naturally it would take a long time for feelings of trust to be built towards someone you just met but at that moment when I saw him, with the spell lifted, the fog was gone. My prior feelings toward Cordell seemed... distant. Artificial.
"Once again, I'm in awe of your vast knowledge," Cordell said with a faint smile.
"I don't get it. What's [Guide]?" Maya asked, frowning.
"[Guide] is a spell from the Scribe series—or any mind-domain spell series, really," I explained. "It lets the user implant thoughts, behaviors, or feelings into others. Like... suspicion."
"Suspicion," Maya echoed, her eyes widening.
"That's right. Regretfully, I was responsible for the apprehension you both felt toward me from the start. I hope you can forgive—"
He didn't get to finish. Maya socked him in the jaw, sending him stumbling back a step, clearly startled.
"And you knew?!" she turned, pointing accusingly at Ethan.
"Um… yeah. It was... actually my idea," he mumbled, the last part barely a whisper.
Maya looked like she was going to explode, but she reined herself in—barely.
"Why? Why would you do that?"
"That explanation will have to wait," Cordell said, recovering and wiping his mouth. "Time is of the essence. Right now, I need you both to do something for me."
"It's all set," he added, glancing at Ethan and pointing to the still-humming flute.
"What's all set?" Maya asked, clear irritation still in her voice.
"This bounty hunter—"
"His name is Barrett," Cordell corrected.
"Fine. Barrett. He doesn't have the same surveillance mark that the animals had."
"Which means...?" Maya asked slowly.
"He's definitely involved in the forest ritual," Cordell continued. "But his situation is… unique. Which makes him more useful alive than dead. So…"
"So what?" I asked, already dreading the answer.
"So... we need you two to fight him off—and let him escape."
"Excuse me?" I said, incredulous. "We just barely survived that fight, and now you want a rematch—on purpose?!"
"It'll be fine," Ethan said quickly. "Cordell wiped any memories he had about someone interfering in the fight. He won't remember being outnumbered. All he'll recall is fighting you, Loid—and getting away."
"That's not what's important right now," Maya cut in. "Loid's still injured!"
"Those memories are gone too," Ethan added. "And he's already healing."
"Whether or not he remembers isn't the point!" Maya snapped. "You're asking us to take on a dangerous opponent again while Loid's still bleeding."
"I understand your concern," Cordell said calmly. "But this is a rare chance. If he escapes and thinks he did so on his own terms, he'll return to whoever sent him. We can trace that connection. Find out who's behind the bounty. And maybe—just maybe—learn something about the ritual itself."
Maya clenched her fists. I could see the war playing out on her face—logic versus instinct.
Then she turned to me. "What do you think, Loid?"
I looked down at my blood-streaked side, then over to the flute, still humming softly, as if waiting for its master. And finally, at the unconscious bounty hunter.
"I think," I said slowly, "that if there's a chance we can get ahead of all this... it might be worth the pain."
Maya exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Fine. But you owe us a serious explanation later," she shot at Cordell.
He gave a brief bow. "Gladly."
Then, with a flick of his fingers, the flute stirred. The mist thickened.
Barrett groaned.
He was waking up.
Sparing no time, Ethan and Cordell were swallowed by a thin white mist and vanished from sight.
Maya followed soon after, disappearing around a bend in the tunnel with one final glance in my direction. I caught the worry in her eyes, the way her jaw clenched like she wanted to say more—but didn't.
"Wait a minute and a half, then run in asking why I never showed up," I'd told her.
She nodded in response and left.
Then it was just me.
Me, the stone chamber.
And Barrett.
The hum of his flute now within his grasp deepened, as if it could sense him stirring. Violet mist slithered back toward his body, reintegrating like a reversed leak. His fingers twitched. Then his eyes snapped open.
I stepped back instinctively, wincing as pain shot up my side. Still not great. Still bleeding. But I needed to sell the act—and I didn't need to fake the exhaustion.
Barrett pushed himself upright, blinking like he'd just come out of a dream. For a moment, he looked disoriented. Confused.
Perfect.
He didn't remember Cordell. Didn't remember Ethan. No trap. Just me.
And that was exactly what I needed him to believe.
"…Still standing?" he muttered, voice rough. His head tilted as he looked me over. "You've got nerve, Red Raven. I'll give you that."
"How do you know so much about me?" I asked warily. If I was going to go through with this, I might as well get as much information as possible.
"What, you're famous in my circles," he said with a grin. "Word gets around when someone's worth this much gold."
His flute twitched in his hand, shifting subtly. The air around it pulsed, pressure building like a storm ready to break.
I clenched my fists, feeling mana swirl through my limbs. Not as much as before. Not even close. But enough.
Barely.
I just had to keep him occupied. Make him work for the "victory." Make it look real.
He raised the flute to his lips.
Then played.
The sound was discordant—like broken glass dragged across piano strings. My ears screamed in protest. My vision warped, edges bending and swaying like the world itself had fallen underwater. Thankfully, the chalk sigils were gone, reducing the intensity of the spell.
But I charged forward anyway.
[Plus Step]
It wasn't pretty. My footing slipped, and my ribs protested every movement, but I moved. Fast enough to throw off his aim. Fast enough to close the distance.
He shifted back, dissolving into mist again—but this time, I was ready.
I leapt over one of my mana platforms—untriggered—and used another to launch myself in a high arc. Midair, I cast [Fireball], but this wasn't the usual kind. A blinding, bright burst of fire exploded beside him.
The mist scattered wildly.
Barrett cursed and reformed early, clearly disoriented.
He blinked rapidly, trying to get his vision back. In a dark and narrow corridor, the human eye naturally adapts to shadows—so a sudden influx of light was a sensory overload. This was one of my experimental variations on [Fireball]—one that sacrificed heat for light.
Taking advantage of his stunned state, I rushed him. He reacted on instinct. His flute lashed out like a blade again, slicing for my side. I twisted, narrowly avoiding the edge—but the motion tore at my wound. Pain exploded down my ribs.
"Ghh—!" I gritted my teeth and lunged anyway, slamming my foot into his left ankle.
He dropped to one knee.
Without hesitation, I ignited my mana. The flames flickered low, almost invisible—trading visibility for raw heat. My robe caught fire at the edges. I compressed the orbiting flame into a dense sphere and launched it toward him at deadly speed.
Just as I prepared to follow through—
—his flute flashed.
Brightly.
And then—
Boom.
A concussive wave knocked me back, hurling me into the wall with brutal force. My breath left me in a sharp gasp. The impact rattled my bones.
Barrett staggered up, smoke curling around him, one arm singed but still functional. He looked pissed.
"I don't know what the hell that was," he spat, "but you've officially overstayed your welcome."
He drew a deep breath and played again—but this time the melody wasn't sharp. It was slow.
A low thrumming began, like distant drums echoing through my skull. I tried to get up—but my muscles didn't respond the way I expected. My limbs were heavy. Sluggish.
A paralysis tune.
No—worse.
He was suppressing my mana.
"Finally, you're out. Stubborn bastard," he muttered, walking toward me.
I clenched my jaw, trying to ignite another spell. Nothing. My mana didn't respond.
"Y'know," he said casually, walking toward me, "I was just supposed to bring you in. But now? I think I might break a few bones for the trouble."
This wasn't good.
Then—
A whistle.
Followed by a flash of silver.
A dagger embedded itself inches from Barrett's foot.
"Loid! There you are!"
Maya's voice echoed off the tunnel walls as she sprinted in, feigning ignorance with impressive skill.
Barrett turned. "Who the hell—?"
Before he could finish, Maya's dagger sliced across his arm, forcing him to stumble back. The dagger which had been at his feet was no in her hand.
And just like that—my mana returned.
The spell had broken. His concentration slipped.
I forced myself up, flames coiling around my fists.
"I'm not out," I said through gritted teeth.
"That spell should've knocked you out!"
He froze.
"Forget this. I'm not in the mood to deal with two of you. I'll be back when it's just you again."
"This isn't over, Red Raven." he added.
Then—boom. A puff of smoke. He was gone.