Depleting more than a third of his entire Mana, Felix cut through the watery distance between them, and Claude was too slow to keep up. Felix's right arm blasted forward, a near-black orb of powerful acid clenched in his fist and empowered by his boosted speed. The Half-Ogre fell to his knees, arms twitching spasmodically. Claude gaped at him like a fish on land, a sizzling wheeze pouring from the hole in his chest. Whatever Body the Half-Ogre had formed, it was weaker than the Risi.
You have defeated Mehren!
You have gained XP!
Felix bared his teeth over the dying Claude, feeling his eyes burn while his teeth itched and ached. Something plopped into the water, but he paid it no mind, his intense gaze fixed on the gathering horror of the enforcer.
"What are you?" he wheezed, a burbling pop of breath and corroded liquid.
"I'm hungry."
Ravenous Tithe!
Claude burst into a cloud of dense, greasy black smoke filled with streaks of aquamarine. The smoke flowed into Felix, pulled into him with a monstrous inhalation. Then it was gone.
All that was left was the rain.
The fireball was the first clue that something had gone sideways.
"Oona, what was that?" Aric demanded as they ran forward. He looked at the ochre-skinned Naiad, who had tilted her head as she stared off into the middle distance.
"Fire Mana, Rank I enchantment I-I'm pretty sure," she said, blinking her pale eyes and refocusing on the Iron Rank.
"Shit, what's over there?" Aric looked at Deema, who was fiddling with her staff. The big man, Kelvin was just beyond her, guarding their rear. Who knew what the Inquisition would pull. They had left before it had come to blows, but the Initiate had been ready to put them all to the question if need be. "Deema! What's over there? I told you to study the Dust Quarter!"
"Oh! Uh, that's uh, common folk housing. Well away from most markets and shopfronts." The woman (girl really) gripped her staff tightly. "Likely someone up to no good."
"True enough," Aric admitted. "A Rank I enchantment couldn't be afforded by the people who live here. That means someone else has come into the area to cause trouble."
Oona gasped. "The Butcher?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." Aric wasn't convinced the so-called Butcher even existed.
"Then we stop them, right?" Kelvin said, entirely too enthusiastically. Aric had noted that he alone had been ready to fight the Initiate and his Acolytes if it had come to it. Aric could appreciate that kind of battle lust.
"That's the job. Leif!" Aric called out ahead of them, where his most nimble Tin Rank was acting as scout. "Move ahead and find them. Do not engage!"
Leif smirked and nodded, before he accelerated down the twisting alleyway.
"Kid's gonna get his teeth knocked in one day, smirk like that." Aric grumbled. Then, to the others. "C'mon! We have to move!"
Nel Zarkas lifted his eyes to the sky. It was overcast, drizzling miserably, and approaching chilly for a summer's morning. His Acolytes muttered among themselves, complaining about the audacity of the Guilders. They had moved further down the muddy thoroughfare after they had chased off the worthless adventurers.
"Quiet!" Nel looked and listened. Special rituals and ancient techniques passed down by their order had enhanced Nel's already System-improved senses to something beyond Human. His Perception pierced the flow of light and sound around them, pushing, prodding. Then, he had it.
A soft, buzzing strain touched his senses.
Nel gestured to his Acolytes, and all of them came to attention and lined up. The Inquisition was an order of discipline and strength. They followed the High Laws with a zeal only surpassed by the Paladins themselves. However, Nel's order was devoted to one task above all others. The third of the High Laws, that which defended them against the depredations of the rest of the Continent. To seek Purity, and erase the stain of the ancient gods wherever possible.
"We move. Now."
Sorcery was afoot.