Leornars strode into the echoing depths of the dungeon, Zhyelena and Zhyier in his wake. As Zhyier's deft hands wove a magical barrier around them, his detection magic flared out, pinpointing the monstrous threats. Zhyelena, a blur of motion, was immediately dispatched to deal with the lesser fiends, while Leornars set his sights on the big game—the orcs.
He halted several feet from the hulking brutes. With a flick of his wrist, a cascade of black, metallic threads fell from his hands. "Threads of Abstract," he murmured, and the filaments shot forward, a web of razor-sharp death. In an instant, the monstrous bodies were sliced in half, collapsing to the floor in a mess of gore.
Leornars approached the fresh corpses, a thoughtful frown on his face as he tapped a finger to his lower lip. "This is unexpected. I anticipated slicing them into three... I'd better start perfecting this technique."
The sound of panicked voices and frantic footsteps echoed from down the hall, drawing his attention. He looked up, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. Just then, a group of adventurers came sprinting around the corner, huddling behind him like a human shield.
"Now we have enough backup, we can take it!" one of them declared, puffing out his chest. They all brandished their swords, pointing them boldly ahead. Leornars simply stared, bewildered by their misplaced bravado.
A moment later, a minotaur, nine feet of muscle and rage, appeared, its massive axe scraping along the dungeon floor. Leornars calmly stepped forward, his gaze meeting the beast's. Before the minotaur could even swing, Leornars moved. A single, fluid motion, and the monster's feet were cleanly severed, sending it crashing to its knees. Now, it was eye-to-eye with Leornars.
"Purgatory... Flames," Leornars intoned, and the minotaur was instantly engulfed in black fire. It shrieked in agony, still attempting to lash out, but Leornars remained utterly calm.
Just as the beast's axe swung in his direction, he heard Zhyier's voice. A magical barrier shimmered into existence around Leornars, and the axe struck it, shattering into pieces. Leornars, unfazed, began to walk away. "Zhyelena, finish it," he ordered. In a flash, Zhyelena materialized, her dagger slicing through the minotaur's neck before sheathing the weapon in a single, practiced motion.
The adventurers gaped, staring in disbelief at the swift, brutal display of power. Leornars turned and walked toward them, expecting a torrent of thanks. But as they opened their mouths, he punched one of them straight into the wall.
"Did you really think wasting my time was just a freebie?" he asked, his voice a low, chilling growl.
He then ventured into the deepest parts of the dungeon alone. When he returned, his retinue of undead had doubled in number, each one now laden with armor, weapons, and heavy pouches of gold. "Insolence, you fools," he said with a contemptuous smirk.
"Did we really need to rob all those adventurers?" Zhyier asked, a hint of unease in his voice.
"We saved them," Zhyelena interjected, "So this is compensation."
Meanwhile, at the Lord's Manor, Stacian and the others were settling in. Rachael Suvallina entered the room, her gaze sweeping over them. Outside, Ayesha's cackling laughter could be heard as she enthusiastically discussed her latest scientific marvels with another science enthusiast.
Rachael Suvallina walked in, her movements calm and elegant, and gracefully settled onto a sofa, placing her sword on the floor beside her. "Where's the Plague?" she asked, her tone conversational.
"Dungeon digging," Stacian replied, taking a slow sip of tea.
Zaryter was seated nearby, feeding biscuits to his little sister, Shullah, while Bellian stood like an immovable pillar behind them, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, his presence a silent threat.
"So tell me, what do you want with the lord?" Stacian continued, his eyes meeting Rachael's.
"Just some political business," she said, a playful smirk on her face. "Will you convince him for me?"
Stacian shook his head. "I'm afraid that's beyond my ability. I am a retainer, not his boss. I have no obligation to 'recorrect' Lord Leornars."
"Politics? Again? Ugh," Zaryter groaned, clearly bored.
"Uncle Leornars is coming," Shullah added in her innocent, childlike voice.
Just then, a maid approached to feed Shullah. Instantly, Bellian drew his blade, his aura flaring to life. "One more step from you and you're dead," he said, his voice as cold as ice, a faint glow flickering in his eyes.
The maid froze, trembling. Rachael Suvallina watched, unperturbed. "Don't worry," she said calmly. "I have no ill intent toward you or your lord."
"That, he will know when he arrives," Stacian said, his composure never wavering.
"How will he know we're here?" Zaryter asked, looking genuinely confused.
"I am the closest one to the lord," Stacian replied confidently, sipping his tea. "By now, he has already mastered my scent, and if I'm correct, he'll probably summon Ascian to track me down."
"You seem so confident," Rachael said, her smirk returning. "How are you sure that the tea isn't poisoned?"
Stacian smiled. "I've already cast healing, purification, and detoxification spells on it the second I was given it. I'm no fool. Lord Leornars always told me to cast those spells on anything edible I'm given. It's his way of saying 'safety first.'"
"Oh, I see," Rachael replied, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.
In the marketplace, Leornars unsummoned his undead, who returned to his shadow, carrying the pilfered gold, gear, and weapons. He spotted an apple vendor and walked directly toward him.
"How much?" he asked.
"Five apples for fifty copper," the vendor said proudly.
"I'd like one," Leornars replied.
The vendor was caught off guard. "That'll be five copper," he stammered.
A wicked smirk crept across Leornars' face. He grabbed the vendor by the throat, his voice dropping to a frigid whisper. "You little piece of trash, you dare to rob me? One apple costs five copper coins. So five is twenty-five, not fifty."
Minutes later, Leornars emerged from the stand, a crate of apples in his arms. "I guess I talked 'business' until he sold me eighty-seven apples for forty copper coins," he said proudly.
He began searching the city for Stacian and Zaryter. Summoning his inferno wolf, Ascian, he gave a single command. "Track Stacian." Ascian immediately bolted toward the Lord's Manor.
Leornars summoned one of his undead knights, handed it the crate of apples, and watched it retreat back into his shadow. Then, he summoned Zhyelena, Zhyier, and his other undead, who silently surrounded the manor. With his aura of depravity and the Touch of Decay and Purgatory Flames active on his hands, he crashed through the roof, landing on the table with a deafening splinter.
He instantly grabbed Rachael Suvallina by the throat and slammed her against the wall, preparing to unleash an island-level punch to crush her skull.
"Lord Leornars!" Stacian's voice rang out, stopping him cold.
Leornars looked over and saw that his friends were unharmed. He sighed in relief, dropping Rachael to the floor. "If any of them were even injured," he said, his voice laced with cold fury, "I'd turn this entire city into ash and dust."
"I am aware you can," Rachael replied, sitting back on the sofa as if nothing had happened.
"What are you doing here, Stacian?" he asked.
"We were invited," she said, shrugging.
"Ugh," Leornars grunted.
"It seems each time we're in a new place, we get invited to a lord or king's home," Stacian added with a weary smile.
Leornars and Zaryter nodded in agreement. Leornars unsummoned his undead, but left Zhyier behind to erect a barrier around him and his crew.
"Okay, woman," Leornars said, a cold, red glow in his eyes. "You have my attention."
Rachael Suvallina smirked back at him, both of them radiating an intimidating aura.
"I don't like this," Zaryter whispered nervously. "Not at all. Something tells me this won't end well."