Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me

A TRIO OF ADVENTURERS walked through the depths of the Forbidden Forest, shrouded by a powerful concealment spell. Their figures were translucent, their steps quiet, and even their mana signatures were nearly imperceptible, enough so that the myriad of monsters infesting the woods had all but ignored them.

It was a testament to the power of the Cloaks of Greater Concealment, items purchased by the Rose’s Thorns shortly before their departure. They were pieces of military-grade equipment, sold under strict regulation by the Crown, with notice of each sale given directly to Lord Silvano.

Alas, these cloaks’ enchantments were not infallible.

There were a number of spells that could see through them, including the demon eyes of true sight… and there was a creature in the forest who just so happened to possess them.

The creature used to be a human, until just a few hours ago. He held the enviable title of Ritekeeper, in a nearby temple of Croxas, but he betrayed his God by dereliction of duty.

He had been entrusted with the sacred task of guarding the remains of the Great Dragon, yet the Ritekeeper neglected his mission, and allowed the execution of an act of treachery most foul.

The Great Dragon had been stolen, and the Ritekeeper’s soul was offered to the Old Gods as punishment. The Old Gods, in their infinite mercy, blessed the Ritekeeper with their boon, and breathed new life into his flesh.

Now, under the watchful eye of First Executor Radomir, the former Ritekeeper had been given his first mission: the complete annihilation of the Rose’s Thorns.

This adventuring party had not only tried to interfere with the Cult’s interests, but was also responsible for the deaths of ten adherents of the Croxan faith, including the Second Executor, Enzo.

His superior, Radomir, had every intention to avenge them. To this end, he mustered an elite strike team of 10 Death Knights, bolstered by himself and the former Ritekeeper, now a Demon Scion.

Armed with Silvano’s intelligence report, he tracked down the Rose’s Thorns, stalked them, and waited patiently for a chance to strike. Eventually, after a long day’s march, the cloaks ran out of energy, and the Thorns set up camp. It was a moment of weakness, which Radomir would exploit to the fullest extent.

* * *

THE ROAR OF THUNDER PIERCED THE FOREST, as multiple spells slammed against the paladin, the elf, and the raven on her shoulder. The spells’ effect was catastrophic, all the targets collapsing to the ground, feathers flying in their midst.

“Amelia! Cerys!” cried the ranger, trying to reach out before a magic circle burst to life under her feet. Tendrils of darkness shot from it, entangling her like the tentacled grasp of a maritime monster.

Try as she may to break free, the struggle was useless. Without magic of her own, escaping the spell would be impossible.

Then, as the ranger tried to reach into her pouch, a group of armored figures emerged from the forest. Their regalia was pitch black with red accents, and bore the insignia of a chained sun on their chest plates.

Worst of all, one of the figures was clearly inhuman. It wore no armor, but its height and proportions were unnaturally large, with thick, scaly hide instead of skin, and long fangs and claws protruding from its mouth and fingers.

“Did we have to mobilize an entire squad for this?” one of them asked mockingly.

“They killed Enzo,” replied the tallest one, wearing the most decorated armor.

“I’m sorry, but if Enzo died to this, then he was a pushover,” said another, followed by a round of laughter.

“But it’s good we caught a live one,” said the first one, walking up to the ranger. “Do you mind if we have some fun with her? I doubt they’ll mind if we break her a little.”

“You can do as you want after I wipe her mind,” replied the tall one, his palm thick with dark magic as he placed his hand on her forehead.

“Do your worst, scum,” said the ranger, glaring with defiance.

“Come on, Radomir, don’t be like that!” begged the first man, his eyes darting between the ranger and his commander. “It’s no fun if they don’t fight.”

“Quiet!” the tall one commanded. “It’s imperative that we learn how they killed Enzo and his squad. Based on the intel we have, they shouldn’t have been able to.”

With Silvano as their mole, the Cult of Croxas knew every detail about anyone worth a damn in the Adventurer’s Guild. Yet the Thorns had outperformed, drastically.

To Radomir’s trained eye, the discrepancy didn’t make any sense, and he had made it his mission to get to the bottom of it.

“Say, you filthy cultist,” spoke the ranger, as he began pouring his dark magic into her brain. “Do you want me to tell you how friends died?”

“I’ll find out soon enough,” Radomir replied, sharpening his focus. For some reason, it was strangely difficult to get his mana to seep through the woman’s skull.

“You’re right,” she said, a vicious smile on her lips. “You’re about to.”

Radomir gasped and recoiled, rushing to erect a barrier around him, but it was a second too late. The silence of the forest was broken by another blast of lightning, an order of magnitude more powerful than the last. But this time, the targets were Radomir and his squadmates, the magic chaining through them with righteous fury.

“Hnggg!” Radomir groaned, collapsing to his knees. He rushed to cast a healing spell before falling unconscious, but before he could, something massive crashed upon him from above.

His bones cracked, rendering him utterly immobile. All he could see was the figure of a giant bear standing on top of him, and the Demon Scion being cut down by a flash of silver to its side.

“By Croxas!” a voice screamed, coming from the man who taunted the ranger. By some miracle, the lightning spell hadn’t hit him, leaving him as the lone survivor of his group.

“Hey, scumbag,” a female voice called him, coming from the forest. Impossibly, it belonged to the ranger, even though she was standing there next to Radomir.

“It can’t be…!” the man stammered, inching away from her in fear. The reports said she couldn’t use magic, but her body was wreathed in the aura of an adult dragon.

“You said you wanted to have fun with me, didn’t you? That it’s not fun if we don’t fight,” her sharp fangs were on full display as she smiled, a pair of daggers in hand, crackling with magic. “Let’s do it. I’ll have plenty of fun with you.”

Radomir’s vision grew hazy, with only the clang of metal and the ensuing screams of his comrade reaching his ears.

How in the world could that happen?

Radomir and his men had the Thorns in the palm of their hands, but in the blink of an eye, his squad was gone, and he himself lay dying on the ground. It was ludicrous.

“You outdid yourself with those clay golems, Cerys,” said one of the women.

“They looked identical to us, didn’t they?” said another with a laugh. “John’s polymorph magic is something else.”

“They were cool, but can you check on Xana, Amelia?” a man’s voice asked. Strangely, the weight bearing down on Radomir’s back had considerably lessened.

“She’s butchering the guy, but sure,” replied the woman, before walking off to the ongoing fight like it was a walk in the park.

As the group seemed distracted, Radomir quietly activated a self-destruction spell. His life was already forfeit, but not without taking a foe or two with him.

“Forgive me, Lord Croxas,” Radomir thought bitterly. “At least my death will serve you,” he continued, letting the magic gather and surge.

Or so he meant to do.

Somehow, the spell fizzled out before it could activate, and Radomir could feel traces of mana, foreign to his own, meddling with his aether pathways.

“Ah, look at this guy,” said the male voice. “Did you see that? He tried to escape.”

“He tried to kill himself,” the woman corrected him.

“It’s the same thing,” the man replied. “He’ll wish he were dead by the time we’re done with him. Can you handle the needle?”

“Leave it to me,” said the woman.

“Hnggg… Hnggg…!” Radomir gasped and moaned at the stinging sensation of a sharp, magical implement pressing onto his neck. Fear gripped him as the realization hit: the woman meant to shatter the enchantment protecting his mind.

As a First Executor of Croxas, Radomir had a long history of service and atrocities committed on behalf of his master. However, at the hands of the Rose’s Thorns that day, he was taught the painful lesson of what it meant to be hunted.