They noticed me the moment I stepped beyond the trees—three of them, standing in formation as if they'd been waiting. An elf, a dwarf, and a human… all adorned in the holy armor and robes of their church. The emblems on their chests gleamed beneath the sunlight. Their eyes, however, did not gleam with curiosity—only with prejudice and intent.
And yet, despite the tension in the air, the first words that came from the elf's lips were not holy incantations, but a disbelieving curse.
"Is that… a lich? And is he wearing… a suit?"
Their reactions were instantaneous. The dwarf growled, lifting his massive hammer with a grin. "Lich or not, my hammer's hungry for another skull."
Behind them, the cleric began chanting a hymn. His voice trembled with reverence and fury. He extended his hand toward me and shouted, "Gloriae Dei – Radiant Cleansing!" A divine spell meant to purge the undead.
But I didn't move. The light hit me like a gentle breeze brushing past an unmoved statue. No pain. No burn. I stared back in silence.
The cleric's face contorted with doubt. Something wasn't right—at least not for him.
Then the dwarf leapt.
A full-body charge from a warrior who believed in brute justice. His hammer, wrapped in enchantments, came crashing toward my skull with the force of a meteor. I caught it with one hand.
There was a crunch—not from me, but from the handle in my grip. The weapon splintered like dry wood. Before he could register what had happened, I reached out with my other hand, grasped his head, and slammed him into the earth. The ground cracked from the impact, dust rising like a curtain of judgment.
The elf panicked, chanting furiously in his native tongue—Latin-like syllables twisted into summoning. Flames sparked around him as he called upon a fire spirit.
But he made one mistake.
He underestimated my control.
With a casual snap of my fingers, I cast "Silencium." The incantation died in his throat. The fire vanished. Only silence remained.
Another flick of my hand, and I whispered, "Paralysis."
In under two seconds, all three of them were locked in place, eyes wide, bodies frozen.
Grass withered at my feet. Death energy pulsed in low tremors across the field.
"How pitiful," I said calmly, stepping between them.
I crouched beside the dwarf, resting my palm on his shattered skull—not to kill, but to mend. Light, golden and radiant, blossomed from my fingertips as divine energy flowed into his body.
From behind me, the cleric screamed, voice cracking in horror. "You… you can't! HOW CAN A BEING LIKE YOU WIELD DIVINE MAGIC? YOU'RE AN ABOMINATION!"
I turned, regarding him with the patience of a teacher addressing a particularly dull student.
"Ignorance," I replied flatly. "You dare insult my existence while your kind slaughter innocents? You call me an abomination, and yet your blades cut through children."
His face turned red with rage. "CHILDREN? THEY WERE USING DARK MAGIC! THEY WERE HERETICS!"
My eyes narrowed.
"How easily you label tools as sins. How desperately you cling to the illusion of moral superiority. Magic is neither good nor evil. It is intent that defines its path."
I paused, my gaze drifting downward.
"Perhaps… I am to blame," I murmured, mostly to myself. "It was I who taught the child. It was my decision. And now, I will correct my mistake."
I stood, raising both arms slowly. The air around us grew heavy, crackling with unseen force. The cleric's body began to shake.
"You know," I said, voice calm but hollow, "a corpse need not be dead to serve as a vessel for combustion. A little flame… a breath of oxygen… and divine regeneration to keep it going... that is all it takes."
He stared in horror.
"I don't normally use this spell. I find combat more enlightening when both sides learn something. But you... you deserve this."
I snapped my fingers.
All three of them gasped. Their wounds healed instantly. The pain faded.
And then the blood began to flow—violently. Their mouths foamed red as they coughed, their chests heaving, lungs burning.
"You see," I explained softly, "as your bodies regenerate, the fire I placed within your lungs grows. You will heal… and burn… until the spell ends. It is the most merciful punishment I could devise for murderers who speak of holiness."
I turned away, letting the paralyzing spell fade.
Their screams echoed behind me.
Rising into the air, I cast one last glance over my shoulder.
So small. So fragile. So convinced of their righteousness.
I flew north, the wind brushing past my coat, the white fabric untouched by blood or ash.
There was no justice in this world.
Only balance, enforced by those willing to act when gods remain silent.