Fahria Shakirn was sure that tonight was probably one of the worst nights of her life. Certainly less than the one spent trying not to drown or being eaten after a ship she was on took an ill-advised detour and ended up getting attacked by rift sharks. That was a uniquely bad experience for someone with the phoenix's fire within her. But tonight was up there as a close second or third.

First Elstrad and the ritualistic humiliation rituals of her clan that crippled one's power. She hadn't been at the receiving end of one of those before but it felt exactly as bad as some of her cousins had mentioned. -30 to all stats permanently was devastating at her development level. Of course, she could regain it with interest if she won and then subjected Elstrad to it. The phoenix certainly demanded it but now that the rage had subsided, Fahria couldn't help but wonder if perpetuating the rituals was actually the correct choice. Was vengeance what she wanted or was it the Great Ancestor? After all, the only reason she was even participating in the Crucible was because it was her only opportunity for freedom. Did she really want to waste her freedom on just keeping the traditions alive so that a different girl like Fahria down the line would chafe under them? Was that really what the Great Ancestor envisioned for his descendants? Probably, he was not a human and didn't care for human concerns like that. The Great Ancestor's rituals were likely how phoenix-kind did things. But she was a human, wasn't she? A blasphemous thought appeared for an instant in her mind before she squashed it. What if the Great Ancestor did not deserve the devotion he enjoyed? It was a horrific thought and even her blood roiled in fury at her impudence in thinking that.

Shaking herself, Fahria focused on the second reason that the night was terrible. The creature before her and not the blood around her. It didn't look like a human anymore but its constant tortured expression and sounds of agony, of torment, certainly felt human. Its face was that of a human, just with hints of something else underneath the twisted and partially melted facade. Misshapen uneven arms with melted strands of flesh trailing beneath them balled into fists where the claws sunk into flesh to release congealed black and orange blood. A stooped spine that still made it taller than any human without skill based growth. A second human seemed to be fused to it at an odd angle and smaller atrophied arms grabbed at the air uselessly. It was a wonder this thing was even alive. Judging from the pained howls it constantly emitted, it likely preferred to not be so.

It attacked like a rabid animal. And like a rabid animal, it too, could be outsmarted. That was something she could exploit, and she was not even alone. Too bad that neither was the monster.

A few minutes ago, she was negotiating with some general of a mercenary outfit, a man named Grehf, no last name. She didn't have the money that some of her cousins had, but the company was not exactly in a position to play hard either. Something about a new rival outfit that used strange metal and fire magic weapons that could launch explosive capsules. Grehf and Fahria were circling around to an agreement for a small payment up front and a promise of a much larger one at the end of the crucible when the screams began. Grehf's two henchmen stiffened and drew blades while a third went out to investigate.

In moments, he returned. Crashing through the one way sound dampening curtain with his flesh burning with a heatless sticky fire. Something about that fire that made the Great Ancestor go absolutely ballistic. He was followed by a creature made up of two bodies absolutely covered in that fire, that fire without heat. A soul without a body, the Ancestor whispered in her ears.

The beast was feral but it was strong, stronger than its skeletal frame and sickly pockmarked hide indicated. Fahria created a glaive of glass while Grehf and his men transformed into golems of iron.

Soon enough, panting and huffing, Fahria decapitated the beast while it was held down by one of the mercenaries. And yet, it moved without a head. It flailed around blindly, missing chunks of its body and yet it did not cease to fight. But it was enough for the mercenaries to regroup.

With a titanic lunge and a roar of fury to match, Grehf grabbed the creature and ripped it in half. Sprays of congealed burning blood splattered on them but there was no mistaking the notification of victory. A kobold. Slave to fire. Slave to the blood of a dragon. Not that different from her after all. Slaves, all of them.

Outside the booth, it was chaos. Numerous other kobolds were slaughtering all those that they could or engaged in combat with those they couldn't. Their arrival was not unnoticed and a smaller kobold shrieked and launched itself at one of Grehf's mercenaries. A swing of a materialized spiked club of iron sent it flying with the crunch of a snapping neck. Its head hanging upside-down by its side, the creature stood up slowly and snarled. And then it died as Grehf fell upon it like a meteor. Fahria's class mastery notification was like a salve that fixed a lot of the but not all of the loss that Elstrad had imposed on her. Fahria picked up a new class called [GLASS VALKYRIE APPRENTICE] and shuffled her skills as usual. It was safe and it worked with her skills. The other new option had significantly better stats but it terrified her just from its name, even the Great Ancestor felt cold and distant instead of prideful and passionate when she stared at that class. [DEFIANT PHOENIX] was not something she was ready to even consider taking yet.

Another of the kobolds joined the fray, and another, and then two more. It was going to be a long night.

Fim was not happy. In fact, he was the opposite of happy. He wanted to see what the hell was wrong with his friend, probably the only person he would consider a friend but he couldn't leave his boss's side. If he did and the others from the gang came to know about it, and they would, regardless of whether the boss survived or not, then he would be wishing that he was dead. And so he summoned beams of searing blue light that cut through the kobolds with ease. His job was to protect his boss, not his possessed friend. And he would do it.

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The monsters didn't stop unless he reduced them to small chunks. Cut off the head and they would flail around wildly. Limbs? Well, they had four of them at the very least. Hell, he even saw one of the things crawling on the ground with its head like it was something kind of worm.

Behind him, his boss was retreating to an alcove that he would then barricade. Fim could only hope that he could clear up enough of the things first to not be left outside to die. At least then he could maybe make his way over to Vinny? An involuntary chuckle left Fim's mouth. Right, as if there was going to be anything left of her to save between Kalist and the enforcers. Maybe he should have been more suspicious when Elser's actual guards mysteriously had to be switched out at the last moment. He didn't know why but maybe Kalist, or whatever was claiming to be it, under the guise of Vinny, had something to do with it.

Slicing the monsters into meat was effective but it was not efficient for his mana. Even more so, it was boring after a point. And that made his mind wander. Wander and wonder. Wonder for how long Vinny was possessed. Wonder about the signs and the oddities that he missed or didn't pay attention to. Could he have saved her if he noticed that his oldest and only living friend was not herself anymore? Vinny and Fim had known each other since they were urchins in the streets of Gerankir, they had seen and helped each other climb from being the dregs of that pit at the mercy of everyone else to being, well, not at its top but relatively safe. So many friends that they had to mourn. And now she would be mourned by him. Once he, too, was gone, there won't be anyone left.

Fim was under no delusion of his likability or that he could be called a good man. It didn't matter. He was happy being the villain. If he was a jerk then so be it, it was better than giving a fake impression of what he was and what he did. He accepted what he was and acted like it.

One of the kobolds tried to bite and rip out his throat. Several rays in the form of a net reduced it to square pieces of meat. He frowned. He hadn't meant to use up so much mana. But he was distracted and even worse, he found that he didn't particularly care anymore.

The tide slightly abetted and he noted that his class was mastered. Was there anything worthwhile there? [LIGHTWALKER] sounded good. He must have killed eight of the lesser kobolds by now. A glance backwards told him that his boss didn't shut him out yet. No, his boss was dead. Something evidently got through. He knew that he was unsuited for guard duty with his lack of any sensory powers. Now he was truly screwed and everything he had ever built was going to go up in ashes even if he survived, if he did. Sinking to his knees and letting his mana recover, Fim scanned the battlefield below.

The kobolds were not that strong individually other than the ones that seemed to be made of two or more bodies. But the problem was that there were a lot of them. Some, like Fim, struggled with only a few while others were cleaning them up. And the really strong ones were all in the air fighting a corpse clad in fire. Vinny.

A lumbering pile of a dozen partially melted kobolds seemed to be making rounds and finishing off whatever was unfortunate enough to be in its path. And looking at that golem of melted sticky flesh, Fim had a stupid idea, followed by something that straddled the line between acceptance and rationalization. If he was screwed then he could go out with a bang. If he hadn't picked up a new class, he might have had [DEATHSEEKER] as an option now. He began to charge the strongest beam he could.

It would not kill the giant kobold, but it would cripple it. And that was enough. Had to be enough. Even if he died, dying to a dragon's rampage and taking out what looked like its strongest general had to be worth it.

The beam built up in power slowly and Fim could feel something twisting in his guts as his body strained against how much energy was being channeled through it at once. He would not be able to fight afterwards but that was alright. His body and his mana spasmed as a brilliant beam of white cleaned through the giant. The two halves fell and so did Fim.

Fim couldn't move, he couldn't even turn his head. All he could see was what was directly above him. The barrier of fire and numerous guilders and enforcers trying to smash it. But he did hear the lumbering footsteps approach. He did see the monster, arms entwined to hold the two pieces in place when it loomed over him and raised a limb that was like a burning club. This was it. He closed his eyes and awaited his, if he was honest, long overdue end. It never came. A whining noise and then a crackle.

Fim opened his eyes to see that the monster was gone. In its place was a black arrow embedded on a wall beside him.

They called him by many names. But the most famous of them all was The Hunter. The first guildmaster of the Hunting Guild. No one was ever sure which one of his faces and names was real, if any. No one, of course, other than the Illustris Council and his protege, Ulgina.

He didn't hate gatherings like this but his true calling was always prowling in the woods and killing anything dangerous that strayed too close to the city. And that was in part the reason for his mystique. People knew he was in attendance but he could have been the man serving their drinks for all they knew. As if, he was a dealer in the casinos. He had standards.

Still, when the dragon attacked, he was not on the sidelines. He moved silently and took out key targets. Filthy kobolds. He hated them more than he hated Kalist for creating them. And Kalist was already busy with Ayn, and on top of that, even a child could tell that this was all a distraction. A distraction for what?

To a simple observer, the Hunter would look like an enforcer who was executing low tier kobolds with blades. To someone who knew what to look for, they would see black arrows annihilating stronger kobolds in rhythm with his fights. And so the hunter hunted all night.

Two of the kobolds tore into each other while the vampire Runi hid in terror.

Just go to the human city and sell moths, they said. It would be simple, they promised. Even Lady Ayn has approved of a show so go wild with your illusions. So many promises. All broken because a goddamned Dragon had crashed the party. At least the kobolds didn't seem to be resistant to illusions so she wasn't forced to fight directly.

Perched on her left hand, Navisha trembled and Runi stroked the moth's wings with her other hand to calm it down. First the lights were too bright and now this. What next? The Third Calamity herself reappears?

Grumbling silently to herself, Runi noticed movement. A strange slug-like fleshy thing made of too many legs and arms seemed to be struggling to breathe. As she watched transfixed, the monstrosity rippled and a few of the limbs just fell away and it seemed to rest just a bit easier. The thing rose and fell with whizzing gasps. One of the arms reached around and ripped away a smaller one from underneath the slug.

What a terrible sight.

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