"I wish we hadn't gotten stuck because of your stupid plan," Joseph snapped.
"My stupid plan?!" Kuze shot back. "At least I came up with something, while you just sat there doing nothing! You wouldn't have even made it this far without me, idiot!"
"Because of you, we don't even have much time left! They're going to burn her at midnight!"
"I don't even know who she is! I was just trying to help. And if it's my fault, then go save her yourself!"
"Fine! I don't need you. I'm getting out of this prison on my own—and you can sit here and watch!"
"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. Let's see how far you get."
Joseph turned away, muttering under his breath. *Now how the hell am I supposed to get out of here? I just said I could do it without his help...* He scowled. *Maybe I should just ask him again. No, no, no—never. I am never asking that bastard for anything.*
Hours passed. Joseph fiddled with the bars, tried the lock, even searched the walls for loose stones. Kuze stayed in his corner, arms crossed, watching him struggle.
Every now and then, Kuze thought of helping—but pride held him back. So they waited, and the silence grew.
Then, suddenly, the door creaked open.
Joseph sprang to his feet and rushed out, only to find… no one there.
Kuze looked around, eyes narrowing. No one was outside. No footsteps, no voices. Just the cold silence of the stone corridor.
Who opened the door? And why aren't they showing themselves?
Joseph stood frozen at the threshold.
Think, think, think… What should I do? How am I supposed to help her?
His fists clenched at his sides.
If this keeps going, she'll die.
Frustration welled up in his chest.
Why am I so useless? She's going to die, and I can't do anything. All I've done is stand here. Maybe Kuze was right. Maybe I am useless. Maybe this isn't meant for me…
His throat tightened.
How pathetic. Even when someone I care about is in danger, I can't do anything.
Somewhere beyond the corridor, muffled footsteps echoed closer.
"It's about time," came a low voice—one of the cultists. "Bring the girl."
"I'm heading off then," Kuze taunted.
"Kuze you can't do this, do you realize they are gonna kill her, they are gonna burn her alive."
"So what I have nothing to do with this, it's your problem you solve it."
"Please I'm begging you to help me out with this once and I'll do whatever you say."
"I already said it's your problem, you solve it and anyways you don't need me."
"You heartless bastard, I'll show that I can do this without you."
So Kuze started walking away, slowly sneaking out of the cathedral area.
Cultist Chanting
"Mater ignota, regina vetita,
sanguine viam reseramus.
Cadant stellae, taceat sol,
aperi portam peccato primo."
(Spoken in a low, rhythmic chant.)
Joseph shivered.
What the hell are they saying…? Whatever it is, it makes my skin crawl.
And then—Joseph's body moved before he could think. He ran toward one of the guards with a shout.
"Get away from her!"
His punch landed square on the guard's face, sending the man reeling. But another grabbed him from behind and slammed him into the cold stone wall.
Kuze didn't hesitate. Without a word, he threw himself into the fight, driving his knee into the guard's ribs and pulling Joseph free.
"Didn't expect that from you," Joseph grunted.
Kuze scoffed. "Yeah, well… you looked too pathetic."
They fought with raw desperation—wild swings, ducking blows, using whatever strength they had. But it wasn't enough. The cultists recovered fast, drawing magical blades. Kuze took a cut to the arm; Joseph hit the floor again.
"They're just rats," one of the cultists hissed. "Bleed them out."
Soon they got surrounded, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide , they got captured again.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
"Leave me , Leave me alone," Joseph shouted. "Burn me instead of her."
No one listened, Joseph still struggling to run free held by two cultists , while Kuze had given up.
Joseph's blood pressure started rising , his breathing fast , emotions coming out and suddenly his body started glowing . Mana surged out of his body creating a blood pool around him. Everyone around him got stuck in the blood and died almost like it was poison except Kuze.Joseph started bleeding out his nose and mouth but his determination never staggered.
You're an interesting one , the cultist leader said with a strange calm to his voice. Let's see if you can handle this one.
A ray of blood red magic started flowing around Joseph. He couldn't move his body and got stuck in his brain and started falling asleep.
The torches flickered.
The air turned still.
Black feathers began to fall.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
A flock of crows began circling overhead.
From the far end of the forest, a figure emerged—tall, cloaked in black robes lined with glowing gold. His hood was low, his face obscured, but the cloak shimmered like sunlight rippling over water. The crows above stirred—dozens of them, silent and watchful.
The cultists froze for a moment.
Then they charged.
He quickly severed each one's neck in a flash of gold.
The cult leader stepped forward once again. Older. Sharper. His eyes locked with the newcomer's.
"So… you're still alive."
"You're still a coward," the man replied, his voice like gravel and winter wind. "Using spells and magic against children , how low will you fall?"
"As long as they are with me you can't do anything. "
"They , can't you see you are alone right now."
"They will only use you as a pawn and throw you away."
"Who said I am alone?"
Joseph blinked. "Who the hell is that?"
Kuze shook his head. "I have no idea…"
"You're interfering again," the cult leader growled, crimson fire curling around his arm. "Still pretending you're better than me? Still hiding behind birds and shadows?"
"You were chosen by light and I was tarnished yet looked at you now."
Joseph's breath finally slowed down. They knew each other?
The cultist's expression twisted. "Don't talk like you know me."
"I do," the man replied, finally getting ready to fight.
"You left me," the cult leader hissed. "You turned your back on everything we promised."
"You made me," the man said coldly. "When you joined them."
"You were one of them, don't forget your past will always stay with you."
"With a roar, the cultist sliced his arm and summoned black shadows with his blood, no spirits nah , they were undead souls?"
Your cheap tricks can't stop me tonight, the man shouted .
"I told you I was not alone , at least not today."
"So many vs one huh, coward."
As the souls emerged, they began circling the man in tight arcs. One by one, they lunged in for the attack—but he dodged each strike with effortless grace, his movements swift and precise, like he'd rehearsed this a thousand times.
Blades clashed—steel against steel, sparks igniting in bursts of light. The man flowed between attacks, blocking every blow with practiced elegance. On one side, the cult leader struck with rage and violence, his style wild and brutal.
Then—snap—the cult leader and the remaining souls raised their hands in unison. Crimson fire burst toward the man in a sweeping arc.
He spun and swept his hand outward, conjuring a barrier of sand and mud that absorbed the flame in a hiss of steam and ash.
The enemies didn't hesitate. They slammed their hands into the ground—cracks splintered outward, and molten lava erupted like a geyser.
Without flinching, the man raised his palm and performed a strange, fluid motion. Instantly, the crows overhead responded, diving and swirling. With one final gesture, they carried him into the air—lifting him above the waves of lava in a rush of black feathers.
He formed another hand sign and uttered, "Quicksand spell."
Instantly, the ground beneath the cult leader morphed into shifting sand. His boots sank—momentarily trapped. He snarled, unleashing a blast of flaming energy that vaporized the moisture around him with a sharp hiss. Steam coiled upward like phantom serpents.
Above, crows screeched in alarm, circling anxiously—but this time, they stayed aloft.
The cult leader roared and slammed both fists into the ground. Flames surged outward in a sweeping ring, scorching the earth and illuminating the battlefield in flickering crimson.
The man spun, his cloak wrapping around him in a swift motion. A golden flash erupted from its folds—winds blasted out in a spiraling wave, pushing the fire back just enough for him to charge.
Blades clashed again.
He ducked one blow, parried the second, twisted around the third.
"You've grown strong," the cult leader snarled. "But not wise."
"And you're still clinging to your twisted ideals," the man replied coldly.
The cult leader grinned wickedly. "Why use fragile blades… when you've got sturdy hands?"
"Why summon souls to fight for you? Afraid of my blade?" The man narrowed his eyes, his voice like ice.
In that moment, the surrounding souls flickered—ghostly eyes glowing with silent rage. They didn't vanish. Instead, they began circling faster, tightening the noose of danger. The man's blade shimmered—and dissolved into mist.
But his stance didn't falter.
The cult leader and the souls exhaled in unison—unleashing a torrent of fire that tore across the battlefield like a living inferno.
Without hesitation, the man responded. A surge of water burst from beneath him, flooding the ground in a crashing wave. Steam exploded into the air as fire met flood—elements colliding, battling, canceling out in a whirlwind of heat and mist.
Then fists flew.
The man moved like a phantom—dodging, striking, spinning between enemies with flawless precision. Though surrounded, he never took a hit. Every punch he threw landed true, each blow sharpened by jets of compressed air that struck like hammerfalls.
The cultist answered with fists cloaked in flame. His blows hissed through the air, scorching the atmosphere with sheer heat, each strike heavy with fury.
Smoke swirled.
Ash danced.
Their battle raged between worlds—fire and wind, rage and resolve
Can you make it quick?" the man said, dodging an incoming strike with barely a shift of his weight. His voice came through a small device hidden beneath his collar, calm despite the chaos.
"I'm trying, alright?" a woman's voice crackled through the link. "It's not exactly a walk in the park!"
"Oh—wait, I've found them. The bodies," she continued urgently. "They're behind the cathedral."
"Good," he replied sharply. "Now shut this black magic down and put the souls to rest."
"Roger that," she said.
Just as the words left her mouth, the souls surged forward with unnatural speed. Their spectral hands grabbed the man's arms and shoulders, lifting him into the air. He twisted and struggled, but their grip held firm.
The fire had faded.
The battlefield fell silent, save for the rustling wings of circling crows and the soft hum of the device.
Suspended between sky and ash, the man locked eyes with the cult leader below.
"So much fighting for what, now you're caught and I'll be the one to end this."
"Creepy," the woman murmured, stepping into an old, nearly crumbling shed tucked behind the cathedral. The space reeked of dust and decay. Cobwebs clung to the walls, candles flickered in a strange pattern at the center, and heaps of bones lay piled near ancient runes—curses scrawled in a forgotten language.
"Now do I seal the bodies, or burn them? I forget too much," she muttered.
The man's voice crackled through her device, strained and clipped: "I'm gonna die—make it quick."
Her breathing sped up. "I have to do this fast… What do I do? What do I do?"
"I'm just gonna seal them," she said, forcing herself to focus.
She traced a glowing circle over the pile. Energy pulsed into the bones. The ground beneath the cathedral trembled.
Back in the main chamber, the cult leader closed in on the man, blade poised to strike—but the undead souls around him flickered and vanished.
The man dodged, narrowly escaping the fatal blow.
"What?! But you're alone!" the cult leader shouted.
"Who said I'm alone?" the man replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.
The cult leader snarled and cast a spell, lighting the wood beneath the unconscious girl.
"You can't stop us. Not anymore."
"You're right," the man muttered. "Maybe not today."
With a final, elegant motion, the cultist vanished—leaving only glowing embers and a trail of smoke.
Silence fell. The crows settled once again, watching with eerie stillness.
The man stepped forward, sheathing his invisible blade. A flick of his hand snuffed out the fire.
"You're some brave kids," he said quietly. "But you've got more trouble coming. Get up—fast."
He turned to Kuze. "Untie the girl. I'll heal him."
"But the fire—"
"Already neutralized."
The woman reappeared, brushing soot from her cloak. She and the man spoke quickly.
"What do we do with the kids now?" she asked.
"We take them with us."
"What about their parents?"
"They'll only make things worse."
"But won't this be kidnapping?"
"We don't have a choice."