With a groan, John stirred, the familiar ache of existence settling back into his bones. He blinked, the soft fabric of the tent ceiling giving way to the faces of those who had been watching over him. Angel, precise and still, stood beside Ivy and Hope. Sunlight, filtered through the canvas, painting hazy motes in the air.
"Has anyone ever told you that you glow when you sleep?" Ivy asked, her voice a curious whisper that broke the profound silence. Hope, ever a mix of courage and caution, inched closer, a tiny finger almost reaching out to poke him before she instinctively retreated behind her sister, a flicker of awe in her eyes.
Angel, whose usual monotone was famously devoid of inflection, surprised him. "This one feels it's a soul-related matter. This has further piqued this one's interest in this one's master. How strong is Master's affinity towards soul magics and does Master understand what Master has done?" Despite her unchanging facial expression, her eyes seemed to sparkle with an odd, almost childlike excitement, a disarming contrast to her usual stoicism.
John pushed himself up, the deep thrum of residual energy a subtle hum beneath his skin. "In order, yes, it is soul-related, from what I can understand. But no, I have no idea if it's from an inherent affinity and no real idea what the true cause is. I do know many of my special friends used a part of their own souls to heal mine and I got a few lessons in the absolute bare basics in it, that's all I will say on this though." He gave them a firm look, closing off any further inquiries. The glow, he knew, was merely a ripple effect, a transient testament to the profound, almost sacred debt he owed to those who had sacrificed so much for him.
He swung his legs out of the tent, stretching. "Where's everyone else?" The camp felt quieter than usual, a subtle unease hanging in the air.
"There was a commotion a bit earlier," Ivy explained, her eyes flicking towards the perimeter. "It seems two people showed up. They were at least amicable, didn't show hostility and expressed a desire to speak with the leader of the group. So, Ash, Aria and Saya went to find out who they were and what they wanted, all while keeping a close eye on them until you could come to see them." John nodded, the practiced efficiency of his companions reassuring.
"Time to see who they are and what they want." His tone was flat, already mentally preparing for whatever new complication the world had decided to throw his way.
As he walked out, the sounds of the camp gradually returned, the distant clatter of pots and the hushed murmurs of the others. He moved towards a small clearing where he could clearly see Ash, Aria and Saya. Sieg, ever vigilant, stood nearby, his imposing figure a silent sentinel. Facing them were two figures, a stark contrast to the familiar faces of his group. Instantly, even from a distance, John felt a jolt of recognition for one of them. A single clockwork guardian stood between the groups, its metallic form glinting in the light, the rest of their defensive constructs no doubt positioned for security.
"So, I heard you two wished to speak with me," John stated, his voice carrying surprising authority across the short distance. His gaze landed on the more flamboyant of the two visitors. "Honestly, didn't expect to see you again, Lucy."
His words struck like a lightning bolt, surprising everyone present, especially Lucy herself. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, quickly scanned his form.
"JOHN! Is that seriously you!?" Lucy practically shrieked, her voice a mix of shock and delight. "And you're still alive? Colour me impressed, I figured you would have been one of the first ones to bite the dust! Honestly, didn't expect the announcement to actually be you of all people, but here you are, not only alive and kicking but thriving! Love the new look, I mean, you went from chunk to hunk! You're so freaking hot now!" Her gaze lingered, utterly unabashed, raking over him with an almost predatory appreciation, a hint of genuine drool in the corner of her mouth. Her new attire, a daring ensemble of leather-looking lingerie that left little to the imagination, clung to her curves, accentuating every movement.
Taking advantage of her unreserved appraisal, John allowed his own keen senses to sweep over her as well, not only noting her audacious outfit but also instantly accessing her core information and that of the golden-robed man beside her.
Name: Lucy Adalle
Class: Shadow Dancer (Low level)
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Rank: Intermediate
Race: Human (traces of Shadowkin)
God: @#$%&***
Nature: Seductive, tease, smart, tricky, stealthy. Description: A young woman in service of the Goddess @#$%&*** and one of the few who has genuinely interested Them. At first, the class overwhelmed and controlled her, but given some time, she has managed to regain some control while slowly building a resistance to her class under her new lord and master.
Name: Lancelot
Class: Paladin Priest (Trainee, tainted)
Age: 48
Gender: Male Rank: Low Race: Human (Elements of Light elemental corruption)
God: Lord of Light
Nature: Arrogant, power-hungry, selfish.
Description: A man who forsook his own family and friends in the pursuit of power, having joined the Church of Light. His faith only exists to feed his greed, in attempts to constantly attain more, to the point of Light Elementals slowly corrupting him to try and use him as a gateway to enter his world, with him believing instead that it's just them giving him more power.
The data flashed through John's mind. Lucy, still the same opportunistic but surprisingly resilient individual, now with a touch of the shadows. And Lancelot... what a piece of work. The 'light elemental corruption' note sent a chill down his spine. This man was not merely arrogant; he was a walking vulnerability, twisted by his own ambition.
"Well, I'm alive and not just kicking," John said, his voice now devoid of any warmth, a stark contrast to Lucy's exuberant greeting. "But let's just get to the point. Why are you here? I doubt it's just by chance you and Mr. Priest Reject over there just happened to come across us. So, what do you want?"
"Priest reject!" Lancelot bellowed, his face reddening with insult. He was an imposing figure, his face appearing aged yet oddly youthful, with a faint glow that seemed almost unnatural. His hair, a shiny golden hue, framed sharp red eyes that burned with indignation. He wore a thick, opulent gold and white robe that shimmered in the light. "I will have you know that I am a member of the most holy order of the Light under the God of Light! How dare you speak down to me in such a way, you dirty mongrel!"
John merely gave him an unimpressed look, a brow raised in silent dismissal, further fuelling the priest's rage.
"Well, I'm not too sure why a member of the Church is here," Lucy interjected smoothly, her smile never faltering as she tried to regain control of the conversation. She leaned closer to John, deliberately pushing her chest out, a blatant display that earned annoyed glances from Ash and Saya. "But I'm here to offer you a chance to join my group. We're known as The Nightshade Syndicate, a rather well-established group in the underground of things, well, what could be considered an underground now."
"As for me," Lancelot cut in, his voice dripping with condescension, "I am just here to give you an order. Follow me to the Church. It has been ordained that you are to kill yourself in front of the Lord's Chosen as recompense for your vile and filthy existence. Your members, though, would be taken as tribute and all your items and valuables will be seized as tributes to the holy Priestess and Chosen of the Lord. So come along."
A stunned silence descended upon the clearing. Everyone, including Lucy, stared at Lancelot, disbelief etched on their faces. The sheer audacity, the blatant disregard for life, was truly breathtaking.
John, initially, couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter, clutching his side. "Hahahaha, oh god! You can't seriously have your head that far up your ass!" His laughter echoed, harsh and incredulous. Then, as Lancelot's face remained utterly serious, devoid of any hint of jest, John's laughter died in his throat. "Wait? You're actually serious!" he added, his voice tinged with a dangerous disbelief. Lancelot's tight-lipped expression confirmed it and the priest began to reach into his robe for something, a glint in his red eyes.
Saya, however, refused to take any chances. She was faster, a blur of motion. Her blade, a gleaming arc of steel, flashed forward. A shimmering, barely visible barrier materialized mere millimetres from Lancelot's neck, blocking her strike. The barrier, infused with holy energy, fragmented and shattered with a sharp crack, forcing the priest to stumble backward, a thin, crimson line tracing its path across his throat where the blade had scraped.
"You filth! All of you!" Lancelot shrieked, his voice laced with unholy rage, his hands clutching his neck. "I had given you all a chance, but you chose to waste it! My actions now are on your heads! You have brought about this by your own blasphemous hands!" He pulled a scroll from his robe, a scroll that radiated immense power and slammed it to the ground. A blinding, searing light erupted, piercing into the sky like a beacon, a triumphant, maniacal laugh tearing from his lips.
But his laughter was short-lived. Saya, capitalizing on his sudden distraction, was already in motion. Her second swing was fluid, precise and utterly without obstruction. This time, there was no barrier, no holy protection. Her blade cut cleanly, severing Lancelot's laughing head from his body, which thudded to the ground, the light from the scroll still surging skyward.
"A summon and signal scroll," Z muttered, stepping forward, their voice tight with dread. They turned to John and the others, their throat bobbing with an audible gulp. "And a high-ranked one at that. We don't have much time now before whoever he signaled locks onto this location and comes here through the summoning." The implication hung heavy in the air – a powerful enemy was now on their doorstep, drawn by Lancelot's final, desperate act.
"If we want to make it out of this alive," Lucy said, stepping forward, her earlier flirtation replaced by a sharp, calculating glint in her eyes, "I think you should take my offer and join my Nightshade Syndicate. My Lord has grand plans. You and your group would be under his protection and I can use my authority to help you with this situation if you do." Her gaze was intense, a clear attempt to leverage their sudden, dire predicament into an advantage for her own agenda. The choice, John realized, was immediate and potentially world-altering.