"We're here."
I placed a hand on the latch of the final door to check for enchantments, then turned to Roland and Nerissa.
Whispering, I said:
"Recap: Roland goes in first. I follow and hide in the right corner. Nerissa goes left. If I'm more than ten meters from the priest, I'll focus on the acolytes. If I'm closer, leave him to me."
Nerissa nodded and brushed a dark blue lock from her face, drawing her dagger.
Roland, absently touching the bandage over his left eye, added,
"Séraphin, stay at least three meters away from me at all times. We don't know what miracles they might have, it's just not worth the risk."
I too nodded, images of past mistakes flashing through my mind.
"Sounds good."
I placed my open palm on Nerissa's forehead, murmuring the only power words I knew.
No visible effect followed, which was good.
"Ready?"
I loaded the crossbow, our prized possession, the only expensive weapon we owned, then stepped aside.
Roland, the bulkiest among us, charged the door without warning. It gave way without resistance.
Inside the dark stone chamber, the three cultists jumped and turned toward us, clearly caught off guard.
The priest near the small sacrificial altar held a dagger above his head.
He stopped just before driving it down onto his hand, which rested on the pale marble.
His eyes locked onto us, stunned.
The first phase of the plan had worked.
Roland dashed forward, drawing his saber mid-run and striking the first cultist with two quick slashes — lethal before the man even realized what had happened.
As always Roland sheathed the blade immediately after his strike. All disciples of his school did the same, it was the first thing they were taught.
I, for my part, slipped into the shadows on the right, mentally calculating the distance between me and the enemy priest. Only six meters. I was at an advantage, if only by a few centimeters.
Confident in my estimate, I spoke a phrase in Elvish.
Invisible ropes bound the priest's arms instantly, tight enough to force him to drop the dagger with a grunt.
Meanwhile, Nerissa had leapt onto another cultist, stabbing him with lethal precision in the carotid artery.
I saw the man's blood spray against her corpse-pale skin—a beautiful contrast—then felt the spell I had cast on her dissipate, all of its power spent on that single attack.
The last cultist looked around wildly, drew his short sword, and shouted something in a language I didn't know before charging at me.
As I prepared to dodge, I saw him abruptly change direction and strike at what appeared to be empty space between us.
The invisible rope was severed clean.
Roland cursed and rushed toward the now-free priest, hand on his saber's hilt.
He attacked, drawing in one swift motion, executing two more rapid strikes.
The first missed.
The second hit the priest's chest, but only tore through his sacred robes and glanced off the tough leather armor hidden beneath.
The priest smiled manically and extended a hand toward Roland.
"Receive our divine punishment!"
His fingers barely brushed Roland's chest — but it was enough.
A flash of green energy burst forth.
Roland was thrown back two or three meters, crashing to the ground and coughing blood.
Panicking, I took quick aim and fired the only bolt loaded in my crossbow.
It struck the priest in the left shoulder.
A mistake.
As soon as the bolt sank into his flesh, a sick grin spread across his face.
He raised one hand to the sky and cried out:
"Lady of Night, Angel of Dusk, grant us your protection!" Only then we realized we were facing disciples of Saint Khalida, the daughter of the moon.
A violet mist appeared from thin air, sliding down the altar and creeping toward his feet, beginning to wrap around him. We felt the atmosphere in the room become colder. I and Roland glanced at each other, both of us now understanding it wouldn't be possible to take prisoners. Lord Wa'il would be disappointed, but there wasn't much we could do about it.
Nerissa didn't hesitate.
She placed her left index finger on her lips, then aimed it toward the priest and whistled a sharp, simple tune.
The man's eyes widened as he realized he had been paralyzed once again.
Nerissa, eyes locked on her frozen target, reversed her grip on her knife and hurled it.
The blade lodged straight into his throat.
He choked and fell forward onto the filthy floor. He was dead.
But the mist remained, and it began to drift toward the last remaining cultist.
Roland barely managed to stand.
Despite clearly having at least a couple of broken ribs, he lunged at the enemy with a single powerful slash, but was easily parried.
Now the cultist had his back to me.
I seized the chance.
Using the last of my strength, I summoned an electric aura around my right hand and dashed forward. I could almost feel the last drop of mana leaving my body as I ran.
My hand was almost magnetically drawn to his body, so much so that I didn't even have to aim, really. He must have had more metal on him than just the dagger.
I smelled burning flesh as he screamed, then used what was left of my power to let a gentle breeze carry my body back by a few meters, but I was too slow in speaking the incantation. He turned and slashed blindly, leaving a deep gash on my arm.
The cultist was immediately finished off by Nerissa, who had recovered her dagger and stabbed him in the abdomen.
As soon as the last enemy died, the mist dissipated as if it had never existed.
Without thinking, I pulled one of the two minor healing potions from my satchel and handed it to Roland.
He looked better as soon as he drank it and wasted no time wrapping the last of our bandages around my arm.
When he was done, I slid down against a wall and let myself breathe out.
"Still alive."
Just then, a bright, far-too-cheerful voice echoed inside my head:
[Congratulations! Mission complete!]
Judging from my companions' expressions, they'd heard it too.
Two seconds passed, the standard gap for linked system notifications, before it continued:
[You've leveled up! Continue advancing within this class?]
I smiled to myself and nodded. I had been waiting for this moment.