Weeks have past. The gratitude, the commemoration and the recognition, he earned it all in the honor of taking part in the eradication of all of Pandemonium's Supreme Sins.

He had grieved, he had celebrated, he had brightened the reputation of his kind, and now he plans to go back to the Subterranean City, to settle down and rest.

His armor has been repaired, the bones of his cuirass now replaced with the bones of stone trolls. It isn't as formidable as the bones of mountain giants he once had but it's better than nothing. His sickle and dagger has been sharpened and fashioned to perfection by the best smithy known. His bone wand containing the skull of a lich remained untouched, needing only the maintenance a Priest of the Serpent can manage in order to keep it well-conditioned and contained. And finally, his cloak. The only thing he never replaced, the first thing he wore when he ventured into the above world and the last thing he kept as he reaches home.

And now he's heading exactly there.

It was evening, a particularly ominous one as he treaded through the forest path. The moon wasn't shining, the winds weren't blowing, and everything was quiet. However, he wasn't tense or afraid in any way. Nothing in this world could frighten him anymore. He had seen the worst of everything in this damn world. What else does he need to fear?

So he ventured further without a care, his senses already sharpened to hear any suspicious movement or any disturbance in the air that indicated hostility. His gait was composed, confident and lax, unconcerned to the fact that a smell was starting to permeate around him.

The smell instantly became unbearable.

He frowned, plugging his nose. Not desiring to smell like he came out of a mad wizard's laboratory, he stood in place and looked around him, looking for the source of that horrid odor. It was dark everywhere, especially when the moon wasn't present to give light, but his familial genetic quirk granted him the benefit of seeing in the dark.

Yet….he saw nothing. He saw no sign of anyone or anything being around, hiding behind any obstruction in his line of sight. Not even the Spirits or the Dead told him of any living thing present.

"Hmm…" He hummed in wonder, closing his eyes in thought to consider certain possibilities.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps….lots of them...clamoring, the presence of hundreds of individuals….there was sudden brightness attacking his light-sensitive vision when he opened his eyes to see what was happening.

"Argh!" He recoiled, bringing his arms up to shield his vision. There was the sound of yelps coming all around him, as if the 'crowd' around him was surprised at his sudden movements.

He wasn't sensing any malicious intent nor was there any form of disturbance in the air, the Spirits didn't even warn him of anything dangerous. Does this mean that whatever is going on, it's nothing concerning? Eager to know the answer, he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the bright light, and….

….his emerald eyes widened in shock.

It was once a dim night, now it was a bright day.

There should have been an unnoticeable chill, now he felt the heat of the sun.

There was once a road in a forest path, now he was in the center of a town.

He was alone with the spirits of the resting seconds ago, now he was surrounded by onlookers that carried looks of curiosity mixed with fear and suspicion.

There are no demons he knew that ever looked close to human. And now they surrounded him, alongside actual humans, sharing the same look of trepidation and shock at him. They were in the same distance, not fearing or killing the other.

Uncertainty. Panic. Distrust. Violation. Anger. Fury. He boiled with these emotions inside him as the familiar sight of being looked at like he was an enemy, the mana in his form acting up to manifest a curse. A curse that emulated the true suffering of being alive.

He screamed, sending a blight into all who looked at him. Their vision darkened, their senses numbed and silenced, sending them into a panic as they writhed on the floor trying to hear their own voice, trying to feel the world with their hands, trying to sense just anything to confirm that there were alive. The most desperate among them bit their own flesh, trying to feel pain and earned naught. The knight who was about to confront him took his sword in his hand and cut his own palm, he felt nothing.

And when an eternity seemingly passed, their senses have returned, sight, touch, smell, taste and hearing reconciling with their minds. The ones who inflicted self-harm screamed at the sensation they brought upon themselves. And when the people were about to face the bone-bodied man they last saw, there was nothing there but a bare spot on the ground.

Confusion and panic rolled across the area amongst the people like a plague.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

As soon as he found himself a private place in the alley to calm down, Emurdol immediately collapsed to his knees, as if he lost his breath even though he wouldn't have been winded at such a distance. Still, the panic he felt was heavy.

"What happened...!?" He muttered, his breath shaking like never before. "What….! What…! What is going on…!?"

His clawed gloves scratched against the tiled floors, creating a grating sound and leaving 4 white lines until it formed into a clenched fist. It shook in his frustration, the metal creaking under the frustration. He had so many questions, so much to ask, but who can he inquire with them? This place is too unfamiliar, and those demons standing around near the humans are just making things worse. Was he teleported against his will? Was this some sort of joke? Just what is it?

And the Smell of Taint isn't leaving him at all.

"Damn it…!" He cursed, teeth gritting as he beckoned the assistance of any help available around him that he could trust. Spirits of Nature or the Dead, he'll go with either one or the other. He needs answers. "Just what the fuck is going on…..!?"

"Oi! What're you babbling about there?"

"We mean serious business here! If you don't wanna get hurt, cough up whatever you got!"

His head snapped to the direction of such rugged voices, beholding a trio of obvious colors.

Thugs. The easiest deduction he ever got. He frowned darkly. No matter where he is, there's still more of the species of scum that eat on the lives on the unfortunate. These idiots are just pissing him off by being alive.

"Leave me be….!" He growled dangerously, his eyes flashing bright green as he readied a curse to escape from his lips at a moment's need. "I have no time for scum like the three of you!"

"What!?" The smallest one of the trio asked in indignance. "S-scum!?"

"Well, ya got some nerves for some kinda hotshot!" The middle of the trio, a silver-haired man with a chain manacled to his throat, stomped up to him and grabbed his cloak, forcing him slightly up to his feet and into his face. "You mind saying that to me again!? What'd ya call us!?"

His frustration was already past the limit of allowing any peaceful outcomes to happen, and this brat had pushed his buttons with the way he was holding him.

Clawed hands gripped into the man's wrists, instantly turning the superior expression he carried into a painful scrunch as the pressure intensified, drawing pained yelps from his mouth. "Aaagh! Tight! Too tight! It hurts! AGH!" His would-be victim rose to full height, fully dwarfing the thug as if he was a child. He was a head and a half shorter than the cloaked man.

Emurdol leaned his head back and slammed his forehead into the thug's own, instantly drawing blood and knocking him out cold. With this scum out of the way, he shoved it back and let the body fall to the stone floor like a sack of wet paper.

"Damn you!" The biggest of the trio, who seemed to be his equal in stature, charged at him with what looks like a cleaver. The swing he executed was laughable, easily avoidable and even a lesser hellspawn could read his movements before the bastard even drew his arm back.

He was tempted to let the blade land and see if it would even go through his cuirass, but he held back the condescending thought and acted accordingly to his emotions: he felt satisfied from doing such damage, relieving, satisfying, and he wanted more. So he swung his fist back, fully extended behind him even as the cleaver was inches away from his shoulder and threw it, landing the strike straight to the cheek, the blade missing completely as he twisted in the motion and the scum slamming against the wall.

Completely unconscious the bigger thug was, Emurdol turned his eyes to the smallest, who was now shaking with fear at the discovery of who was actually in control. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! P-please! Spare me! I'll do anything! Just—"

Already having lost his patience, he grabbed the thug by the throat, effortlessly lifted him up from the ground and forced the Nightmare Curse as he gazed deeply into his victim's pinpointed orbs until the illusion is fully imprinted into him.

The small body is released and lands to the ground with a thick thud, the small man's expression frozen in catatonic shock as he witnessed every nightmare fathomable in his range of imagination. Emurdol is merciful enough to let it last for a single minute, but even that much is a traumatizing experience for the weak-minded.

It would be essential to extract some information and know something of the place he was in….

He regarded the trio in clear detail. One was writhing in pain holding his head, another was unconscious with the likelihood of a broken jaw and the last is currently lacking coherency, unable to recover for likely a month.

….useless, all of them. He is so tempted to have them executed and have their Souls serve under him. At least in that fashion, their existence will have a bountiful use under his will.

"Hmph." By the Dragon, he will not do such a thing. Such disgusting Souls do not benefit him. Wiping the bloodstain out of his forehead, his silver tresses swishing against his fingers, he walked with light steps onwards. Though he remained uncertain as he doesn't know where to even go.

At least he's not panicking anymore and felt more at ease with his situation. The scuffle must have allowed him to vent it out. He smiled in morbid amusement, somehow feeling a little appreciative for the thugs to come by and confront him. "Once again, scum have their uses. Mainly as my punching bag for stress-relief." He muttered, his voice grave and guttural in whispers.

He held his elbow across his stomach while a free hand held his chin, his brow furrowing in thought. What can he do now? He needs to seek out answers, that was the first step to take in a foreign land. But who can he ask? He may have removed the prejudice of his kind back in his homeland but it does not mean the same prejudice he once suffered won't befall him if he interacts with someone in this place. It's not like news of his accomplishments would reach that—

"HEY!" A shrill voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he beheld a small form sprinting from the bright opening of the alley ahead of him. "MOVE IT! MOVE IT! Whoever you are, out of the way! I'm in a hurry!"

His eyes narrowed and he suppressed the urge to smirk at the fortune he suddenly had. Yes, this little one will satisfy his hunger for answers.

The look of desperation and purpose in her eyes as well as the strain visible in her movements: this was a familiar sight. In a poor town ruled by barbarism and lawlessness, his friend Pericus once experienced getting his coin pouch pickpocketed by a waif and the child was not lucky to run into Emurdol who waited in the corner of a building and grabbed him by the arm as soon as he passed. The boy got off lightly as he was allowed to keep half the coins by the mercy of his friend but the infamous lecture enacted by a Priest of the Serpent ensured a proper reformation of living habits.

This girl running towards him looks exactly like that boy. It's obvious she was being chased and the way her right hand is closed unlike the left implied that there was something inside. A thief running from her pursuing victim. Scum never change, no matter their reasons.

"You'll do." He muttered quietly as the little one run past him and leapt to the wall beside him. Before she could rebound off it, a hand clamped down on her ankle and she fell to the ground unceremoniously with a squeak as the momentum was lost.

"Ow!" The girl twisted to her side to glare at him while her ankle was still held on with an iron grip. "The hell!? Why'd you grab me!?"

"I need answers." He answered in a very conversational tone, as though he did not just pull a young girl down. "I beg your pardon but I will not take 'no' for an answer."

"What!? No way! Go find someone else! Can't you see I'm busy!?"

"Too busy running away from someone you've pilfered?" He asked without losing his tone.

The look of shock on her face said it all. He always enjoyed seeing that kind of face. Before he could add a comment, her other leg moved to kick his wrist. Seeing it coming, his other hand pierced out of his cloak's opening to catch the other ankle. In a swift motion, he threw her nimble legs up, the girl automatically doing a flip back to her feet and fluidly twisted around, instantly attempting to run the opposite direction, only to run into his bone-inlaid chest hidden underneath the cloak, eliciting another squeak from the impact and she fell to the ground again on her backside.

She's not the only one in the vicinity fast enough to switch to another location before someone could realize it.

"Little One, are you prone to falling on the ground?" He quipped innocently, his hands hidden underneath his cloak and his face stoic but the amusement was clear in his eyes if one is observant.

"Grr!" The girl growled, cheeks flushed in frustration. "I said get out of the way!" In the motion of rising up to her feet, her leg was arched to roundhouse his waist. If only she had been a lot taller, she might have aimed for his head.

In smooth movements, he glided backwards at the appropriate distance that left the space between boot and robe only 2 inches apart. Her momentum still brewing in her leg, she remained in one foot and arched for another kick.

He didn't allow her the satisfaction and instead pushed her with a hand as soon as her eyes were off him. Just a little push, as harmless as a childish prank. Of course, with momentum present it would only lead to her falling on the ground again.

"That's the third time, Little One." He reminded, letting his tone be laced with the voice of a grandfather remarking the repeated mishap of his granddaughter.

"GRRR!" That growl was very comparable to a lynx caterwauling. Impressive. "You asked for it, mister!"

She whipped out the knife holstered behind her waist. This little one sure had the nerve to whip it out against someone like him, especially when he's far more experienced than her by a large margin. The little dance continues, consisting with her trying to hit him with either blade or kick while he dodges them without any kind of trouble. Her skill with the blade seemed above that of an amateur, but she's still an amateur as he could easily deduce that the girl is far more accustomed to running than fighting. Though the look in her eyes told him not to lay too much underestimation, this girl had a fire within her.

And then she tripped on the pale thug's form still down on the ground. "WHUA!?"

Of course she fell to the ground again, this is the second time she landed on her front.

"Do not make me mention a 5th time, Little One." He's starting to wonder how long will this game last. He hoped that it will just for a bit longer, this is getting entertaining for him.

"Damn it!" She raised her face from the ground and glared at him once again, "My name's not Little One, its Felt! Why do you keep on getting in my way!?"

"I told you, I need answers." He informed, crossing his arms under his cloak. "Someone like you seemed to know a lot of things."

"Why'd you pick me out of all people!?" The girl named Felt rose up to her feet, looking up to his looming height with an irate glare. "Don't look at me like I'm some know-it-all! I only know what I know! Look up a librarian if you wanna know something!"

"I'm not asking for much, mind you." He replied, an even look in his eyes. "Unless you're implying that you know nothing more except falling flat on your face every time you confront someone. If that's the case, how many times has it been till now?"

The color of pure red flashed on her countenance's skin. It was amazing how his mind immediately started comparing it to an apple, as if Felt was trying to become the fruit purely out of willpower.

His stomach boiled with laughter and betrayed no indication of himself having a lot of fun. He was right to assume the girl to be adept with magic, as he had felt the mana gathering around her form. He complied with the motions, readying a protective spell that could easily eat away the energy comprising the attack before the worst could land on hi—

"Hey!"

Spell preparations were halted from the both of them, their attention turned to the newcomer from the opening passage of the alley and Emurdol found himself turning his interest from extracting information to revel in the sight of a white-haired girl in a white dress that was extravagant without being too restrictive in movement wearing a face of righteous anger.

Not a fellow Priest of the Serpent, but somebody that reminded him of his moronic friend.

"Ah! There you are!" The newcomer pointed at Felt, who instantly abandoned the spat to quickly jump to the wall and crawled up to the lip of the roof before disappearing.

Turns out this girl's far more interesting than the little one. She must be Felt's theft victim.

"No! Wait!" She sprinted after Felt, her heeled boots clicking against the stone tiles as she ran past him and faced the wall, eyeing the last place the thief was last seen. Then her shoulders sagged, as if resigned. He assumed such a thing to be the case. Unlike the little one, this girl did not seem like the type to run around rooftops and jump from walls like a human feline or an assassin from the Organization of Witch Hunters that continually hunt his kind.

Instead, she turned her fierce purple eyes to him.

Oh, it seems he's now picked as the acceptable target to be considered an accomplice to Felt. Oh, why is he not surprised?

"You! Hand over what you and your underling have stolen! Right this instant!" She demanded, leaning forward towards him, showing that this girl meant business. Whatever was stolen sure seemed valuable to her.

"You misunderstand." He coolly pointed out, taking one small step back. "I work alone, and I consider myself a third-party in whatever this situation between you and that Felt girl you were after."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "If you consider yourself uninvolved, then why do you know her name?"

"Because she pointed it out to me." He answered very matter-of-factly, fighting to keep his voice leveled and not sounding like he was condescending her. It's too soon, "She couldn't stand me calling her 'Little One' all the time."

"Then why did you even talk to her? Were you planning to do with her? Who are you anyway? Why do you look so pale? What are you even doing here in the alley?"

He just realized that her ears were pointy, almost like the race that communed with the dense forests of the east. This girl did not look like any of the ones he have met, and her attitude is beyond such types. They were not so interrogative, and loud.

"Instead of asking me questions, shouldn't you be making haste and catch the girl before she gets too far?" He suggested helpfully, raising one silver eyebrow, "The more you spent your precious time with me, the more likely you'll no longer be able to get whatever is stolen from you back."

His point was enough to snap the girl back to her original objective, making her gasp in realization. "Oh no! I've wasted too much time!" She twisted around, regarding the area Felt took to escape. "Aw! And this place is closed-off! I'm going to have to take the long way around! Excuse me." She said as she swerved around him, going to the path he took to enter the alley.

As his face was no longer within the girl's sight, his smirk is finally released, threatening to split his face in half at what he planned to do.

"Sorry….." The Mischievous Spirits he beckoned from the Spirit Realm complied with his wishes, manifesting their forms into the soil.

The passage the girl took was instantly blocked by a barrier of bones, jutting from the ground like a morbid representation of a sapling rising from the soil at a single instance. Femurs, ribcages, spleens, fingers, spines and skulls interlocked together like a tapestry of fine quilt, the formation making it even impossible to climb unless one is very athletic.

His excitement is flowing throughout his bones and his entire body shook under his cloak from the sensation as he let his hood down, letting his long silver hair loose and allowing his hearing to be unimpeded, "….but I actually have some business with you, Dear Girl." The energy he had pent up inside his body stirred, churning like the contents of a cauldron that's soon to be well-done and served. His clawed gauntlets poking out of his cloak, they emanated a ghostly blue, his hair floating as if underwater and his green eyes flashed bright underneath the shadows. "And I will not accept a 'no'. Resist and I will use force." With a flick of his wrist, a large glowing snake fang flew out of his hand like a dart towards the back of her head.

Unsurprisingly, the attack was blocked by what seemed to be a frozen shield that appeared literally out of the air like a pane of glass before it was gone.

"It seems I was right to assume that you aren't as helpless as you seem to be." He remarked, hiding his hands once again and readying a stance underneath his cloak. Outside his cloak, he merely looked like he was standing perfectly straight.

"It seems you truly are as unsavory as you look." She turned slowly and faced him, not at all perturbed by the skeletal wall behind her and the fact that she was just attacked. Most people would panic, especially when he was the cause. Even by his people, he was quite popular for such introductions. "And I suppose that you are what's responsible for what happened to them." She gestured to the three incapacitated forms on the ground.

"They deserved it and they are not worthy of your concern." He pointed out, his hand poking out of his cloak and readying another fang above the palm. "Your concern is me." He blew into the tooth and it flew once again.

The glassy protection conjured itself again before the girl, easily shattering the projectile like before.

"My turn." She said and green diamond-shaped stones came to be from the air around her. With a silent prompt, they flew like an arrow towards his position.

"Hmph." Taking a long stride forward, tilting his head slightly to the side and panning his shoulders 20 degrees to the left, the projectiles passed by his form harmlessly and shattered into shards as they smashed against whatever surface they hit behind him. He scrutinized her, "That better not be your best."

Her eyes narrowed, "That is not the worst a Spirit Mage can do." More green crystals came to be around her and they shot forward quickly, more crystals appearing and propelling forward in rapid succession.

Crossing his arms behind him underneath his cloak, he took simple steps in evading the streaming projectiles. Each one is either too far to hit him or they grazed his cloak but not hitting him still. Her aim is remarkable, that is a fact but that's what makes it easy. So long as one has a good aim, their trajectory is readable and predictable.

This dance seemed to be far more energetic than that little frolic with Felt. For one thing, the number of crystals thrown his way seemed to be increasing in density and firing rate in each second: a circumstance he can't trust his keen eyes to deal with. He can't trust himself to last longer before the girl exhausts her magic either.

With a snap of his fingers, a skeletal stalagmite exploded out of the stone tiles beside him and blocked a crystal from landing against his forehead, shattering it to pieces. The girl's amethyst eyes went wide at the sight, unable to continue firing from her shock, likely having never seen such morbid application of magic in her life. A common occurrence. His people's magic are rarely ever seen, even if they are well-known and wherever this place is, it is not familiar with his kind. She deserves credit for maintaining her composure at the bone wall minutes ago, however. She must've seen much more than a simple magician taught by a teacher who never showed her the reality of a fight like this if that's the case.

2 more erupted from the ground, coming from his left and the other behind him. With a simple jerk of his head as if he was nodding, the sharp points snapped off, separating from their extensions and tilting in the air as they floated until their business ends are aimed at the girl.

"Wha…." The disbelief is clear in her voice and in her eyes. "What kind of magic is this?"

"The kind you will never hope to have." He said gravelly before raising a sharp finger up. "Ha." He waved his finger downwards and the skeletal spears shot forward.

This time, the icy shield activated itself before the bone spears were as close as 5 inches like before. With her hands shot forward, a larger barrier blocked the attack, shattering the projectiles into dust and little pieces of shrapnel upon impact despite the sturdiness and power behind them. The effort of blocking seemed to have put a bit of a weight on the girl but besides that she was unfazed.

Narrowing his eyes, the skeletal stalagmites extended to extra lengths at the flick of his wrist, their blunt tips morphing into a sharp point before snapping off and darting onwards. Deciding to step it up a little, he let 2 more erupt from the tiles, increasing the number of spears flying. The girl did nothing but hold herself in place, her ice shield tanking every projectile sent her way with a firm and focused expression on her face.

"I think this is getting a little too one-sided."

The bone spears suddenly held in place, as if surprised at the arrival of a new voice as much their wielder. Emurdol looked around him while his senses flared to locate the owner of that voice. He isn't sensing the foreign element anywhere.

"Over here." The new voice called out and it was coming from the girl's direction. His attention was suddenly drawn to a grey cat with a miniature bag slung over one shoulder, floating in place beside the girl's head. "Hi~" It greeted with a wink and a cheeky pose.

To say that he was gobsmacked is too much of an understatement. His stoic expression had cracked, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly gaping, "What…the hell….are you?"

"My name is Puck! I'm a Spirit and this girl's overprotective guardian!" Its tiny form began to shine a light green, and suddenly he could feel the shift of mana in the air, gathering towards or displacing away from the girl's direction. He wasn't sure which. It was a sensation he hadn't felt once. Suddenly, the air began to shimmer and a countless number of green crystals came to be in a fan-like formation above.

"You're a Spirit?" He asked in visible disbelief. The revelation was inconceivable. His experience with spirits had never occurred like this, not even once. Spirits were volatile, self-serving and purely unable to sustain a physical form.

Seeing one consider itself a guardian to a girl was a violation of his entire impression on their kind.

"Try to keep up, Mr. Bones." It taunted, swinging its arms in a throwing motion, the crystalline projectiles descending down on him. "I'd be disappointed if you fall to this after putting up such a show!"

He swiped his wand out of his belt, spinning in a blur in his grasp before whipping it horizontally in front of him.

Noise exploded like a bomb. The bones that blocked the path; the pieces of bones that littered the ground; the bones serving as ammunition for his spears: they disintegrated, flying towards his location like rubble sucked to a tornado and they circled his form protectively, a cyclone of deathly design that served as a better substitute to a shield, tanking the crystals thrown his way.

"My! That's an impressive spell!" The so-called Spirit complimented, "However, how long can you hold that up, Old Man!?"

Old Man, pfft. No matter the place, no matter the location, that impression would always come back to haunt him in the world above the Underground Society he lived in where appearances meant nothing in regards to beauty or capability.

Needing only memory to know the location of his foes, he sprinted forward, the bone cyclone keeping up with his speed and closing the distance between him and the girl. With a crashing sound, the cyclone dispersed at the front, revealing the shock on the girl's face as he reached for her with a clawed gauntlet.

"Nope!"

His eyes widened at the force that slammed against his exposed bone cuirass, breaking his momentum and sending him stumbling back. There wasn't any pain but the simple fact that he was hit at all was shocking in of itself. How did she even see his next move coming?

"Looks like you forgot I was here, Old Man!"

Oh, of course, the so-called Spirit was still there. It must've predicted his actions, saving the girl from being cursed with his mana drain and immediately ending the fight.

Covering his front with the cyclone again, he looked down on his chest to see it crystallized at the center due to what hit him. Lightly growling, he drained the mana contained in the crystals before crushing it in his hand, its rock-like integrity lost and having only the fortitude of wet gravel.

Maybe a change of plans is a good idea.

Snapping his fingers again, he willed his entire twister of skeletal protection to gather in front of him, twisting, rearranging, forming, expanding, morphing into a shape in ways it was not possible for parts of the human anatomy. Femurs merged together, a shoulder blade expanded past a normal human's size, a skull was formed from fingers, ribcages and 5 skulls.

The spectacle concluded with the creation of a hulking humanoid skeleton. Stocky arms far longer than its legs, with a torso that was big enough to fit a dragon's heart and an enormous head that was nowhere close to a human but an ape, complete with canines and incisors made from pieces of ribcages, it seems he still got it.

The Bone Golem. It had been years since he had last created it due to its brittleness despite its size, but that was due to the many tainted creeps he faced in his tainted homeland having enough strength to kill 10 humans with one blow. With this construction against someone like this girl, it'd be an even match. It's not like the girl wishes to be underestimated, does she? He doesn't think she's weak. She's gifted, for one thing if she can block one of his bone spells that easily without buckling down on her knees. It always works on the first bullet.

The girl looked at his creation with both proper awe and apprehension but the Spirit was only fascinated, as if presented with a painting or a sculpture, "Whoa! Impressive artistry there, Old Man!"

It's clearly not taking this battle seriously unlike its 'charge'. He's not sure whether to be amused or to be insulted.

So he let fly a flurry of teeth from his wand towards the being while the Golem lumbered towards the girl, its hand raised up to crush her. The Spirit dodged his projectiles, returning fire with its own while it kept zigzagging in the air, never staying in one place for too long to avoid getting hit. Emurdol's barrage of teeth didn't let up either, making little movement as possible while dodging and letting his teeth fly sporadically in their attempt to hit the Spirit.

Sending another wave of teeth, he whipped his wand downwards and the ground exploded once again as 5 enormous and elongated skeletal arms shot out from the earth and made a grab for the spirit. Small and nimble, the Being was able to avoid their clutches, slipping out of their grasps every time fingers were about to close around it. Thankfully, it wasn't shooting its crystals anymore.

The loud thump of a skeletal arm meeting the ground drew his eyes to the battle between the Golem and the girl, noticing that the construct had lost its right extremity from the middle of the upper arm with a shade of frost coating the cross-section. Having no nerves to feel pain nor the mind to notice its loss but only an instruction to follow, it swung its remaining hand towards the girl. The latter shot a bullet of frost towards the elbow, amazingly hitting its mark and easily detaching it to the ground due to the weight and exertion.

"My girl is amazing, isn't she?" The Spirit asked, prompting him to lean his head back before a crystal bullet nailed him in the temple. "She's got enough spunk that even if you were fighting us seriously, you'd still have a hard time against her."

….it noticed?

Turning a glare towards the Spirit, Emurdol realized that the skeletal arms had been frozen in a crystalized prison, stuck in place like an image of its futile struggle to complete the instructions handed down to it.

"I can read minds, you know." The Spirit pointed out, tapping its head to illustrate as if he didn't get it. "Since the start, you never intended to kill us, did you? You just wanna play around, get to know each other with an exchange of punches and magic. I admit that this is a bit too much, don'tcha think?" He felt the ground shake as the Golem collapsed on the stumps of its knees, the lower legs frozen and shattered to pieces before its head met the same fate, trapped inside a frozen sphere with a gaping jaw as if screaming in its icy demise.

The construct tilted towards the ground and its head is rendered to pieces against the tiles.

"Now then, do you want to go for more?" The Spirit asked, creating a cloud of crystals behind it, literally blotting out the source of light coming from the sky and shadowing him.

"Or do you wish to surrender quietly?" The girl added, her hands held out in front of her while a number of 20 ice bullets floated around her form like an outline.

He pursed his lips, shaking his head at himself. These two are far more formidable than he thought. If they are capable of fighting as one, then he should release a few restrictions of his power just to gauge their strength. That would be something to experience.

Brewing some energy into his wand, lightly waving it in a small circle beside him, the ground shook again as the second most-unused construction is tearing through the earth to meet the surface above.

"It seems you still want to resist." An icy shield conjured in front of the girl's palms, forming a practical diamond shape. "Be prepared, Hooligan."

Hooligan. He huffed through his nose, fighting back from turning it into an audible scoff. Compared to the many insults and names thrown at him from the ignorant villagers who know nothing of his kind or even understood them, this one felt so much like a compliment. The vocabulary this girl has sure seems endearing. He's got the feeling that he'll like the girl once he's in a situation where he isn't trying to kill her.

The quake began to increase, the girl beginning to tremble in place uncontrollably while she struggled to keep her balance together from the shaking and the sound of panic and crashing emanating from the streets not far from the alley they occupied.

"What is happening?" The girl muttered, staring worriedly at the direction of the sounds of panic. "What have you done!?"

"A certain someone desires to meet you." He answered, continually waving his wand in circling motions. "Forgive her rugged appearance, she has absolutely no time to clean up."

In a cloud of dust, the cause of the quake bursts from the ground behind him like a snake exiting its burrows to strike at prey in sight. The skeleton of a subterranean dragon rises up, having no legs, arms or even a ribcage, it is nothing more than an absurdly long spinal column with a cow skull as a head the size of a carriage, muddled with dirt, mud and roots from its passage. It would have been a gigantic snake had it been alive.

He nodded at its wondrous design, satisfied that he still got it. "Hello again." He told to the new addition to his party as it hovered its head beside him, as if to lean an ear to his words. Its empty eyes were like the void as it stared back at the girl's purple orbs, "I have before you some new acquaintances to meet. Know them well."

With its instructions clear, the skull shot forward with its spine trailing behind it, the remainder of it still buried in the soil as its jaw snapped open and—

"That's enough!"

It immediately froze in place before it crashed its face into the icy shield, intending to break through and bite into the girl's slim little neck.

Turning around to face the passage to the alley behind him, with the skeletal wyrmm following suit in motion, he beheld the fourth newcomer. These interventions are honestly starting to become annoying.

Though the light have left the front shadowed, it was easy to pick out certain details of the person. It was male, the clothes were white, the hair was red and there was a broadsword strapped to the hip.

"Seems like such a commotion is happening here." The man began, walking onwards to the scene with an air of confidence and soldierly stride. A guard, most definitely. And likely one that has more experience in the field of work than the average one from the looks of it. Interesting. He doesn't sound old for such an impression to come into his mind.

"Who are you?" He asked, tightening his grip on his wand underneath the cloak.

"Then allow me," The man placed a hand to his chest, his gaze fixed on him as he bowed. "My name is Reinhard van Astrea of the line of Sword Saints. Due to the panic running rampant in the streets, I had to address the cause of the matter. But I wasn't expecting such a sight to be the reason."

His instincts are telling him to retreat, and he can see why. The energies in the air seemed to be gathering around the man as if they revered him. He's dangerous. Absolutely dangerous. He wasn't expecting the strong to be congregating on him so soon. He's not ready for a confrontation that demanded all of his strength. This is not the ideal place to be, and he's not desiring destruction at the moment.

"If it's not much trouble for you, Ser, please surrender and order your subject to step down and return to the earth."

Such a polite use of words, even though this situation is anything but.

Anymore fighting and he'll really be worn down. He should just leave, and besides, he's already got a plan formulated during that little game with the silver-haired girl.

"I'd rather leave than surrender." Emurdol pointed out, grabbing on to the edged cranium of the wyrmm as it neared beside him and lifted him up high until he laid his foot on the edge of the roof. He turned to the girl, staring her down as he donned his cloak's hood to shield his head from the sun, "If you wish to find your thief, Dear Girl, head that way." He pointed a spiky finger to the trail of energy visible only to him that seemed to go on into the distance, with an arch on each space between roofs to indicate that she jumped across them to traverse.

He left a tracking curse on Felt the sooner he held her ankle, a very useful spell in case your foe manages to flee. "And as for you, Ser Reinhard." He turned to the Sword Saint descendant.

"Yes?" The man asked, his handsome features now visible as he now stood in the place he once was, the shadows of the buildings allowing Emurdol to see him clearly.

"Keep my subject company." With a soundless roar, the Wyrmm descended down on Reinhard. By the time its head was removed from its body and was sent flying to the wall, Emurdol had already disappeared like a ghost.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

In the darkness of an isolated alley, located far from the bustling streets, a soft chuckle emanated from the corner, belonging to a man seated atop a box, twirling a little object between his finger and thumb as he eyed it with interest. His hood has been set down, revealing his pale hair and his wrinkled face, giving him the impression of age and experience but his emerald eyes showed a youthful energy, twinkling with mischief and enjoyment.

In his grasp was an insignia, no bigger than a coin and shaped like a curved triangle. Engraved in its center was a tiny red gem as small as a large ant, surrounded by ornate designs of gold, almost in the shape of a dragon curling as it prepared to release a breath of fire, the red gem representing the inferno. Clever artistry.

Emurdol Viandegroc's amusement couldn't be any clearer as his chuckle slowly became a subdued laugh, unable to stop due to how hilarious it was. He had cursed the blond little thief's right hand, making its grip slack and unable to hold on to the trinket for too long until it slipped out between her fingers and landed into his hands before she realized it.

"I wonder how long till that Felt girl realizes that her prize is no longer with her." He laughed again, imagining the little one's face getting redder than an apple upon finding out. It could become purple instead like an eggplant. His laughter slowly rose in volume but he held it down before it could get loud enough.

Feeling satisfied as he released a relaxed sigh, he stood up and pocketed the insignia before heading out to the exit of the alley. Waiting patiently for as long as 21 minutes as he leant against the wall before the opening of the alley that led to the streets, he finally found the silver-haired girl going on her way on the sidewalk with a purpose, heading to the direction he pointed. So far, she's still oblivious to the fact that he has been watching her ever since escaping, tailing her, watching her movements and was not impressed to see her not asking around for information of the thief before actually heading there. It shows the girl's lack of caution and control of impulse. What if the information he gave was false? The interval of altruism for the sake of a lost child in the midst of her search, however, paid her well with the information she needed, along with a small flower to give a bit of flair to her white dress.

It seems good deeds are rewarded in this foreign land. He felt cheated. She had white hair like him and she's rewarded for her actions. He tries to before whenever he's outside the Underground City and people would just run away. Still, he got something planned to make his entire day better. He hoped to see it to the end.

He smirked, patting his pocket, "And I wonder how long till this Dear Girl realizes that what she's looking for is already with me." With that, he turned around and headed back to the alley, his cloak allowing him to merge with the shadows, hoping to reach Felt before the girl did.

He chuckled once again: By the Dragon, this is going to be fun.