She hefted her cleaver, using the momentum of her entire being to drive the push-saw side through its ribcage.

Though it was unable to move and its mouth was held shut by the bramble, pressurized jets of liquid death sprayed out of the hole that was once the bear’s nose, painting a trail of desiccation and wood rot over the treeline.

The crunching of bone and singing of steel ringing in her ears as she knelt beneath the Necrobeast’s shattered rib cage. She smashed her remaining seal-bottle into the gap, using the moment of clear air to take a breath as she grasped her cleaver with both hands. Letting out a breath of Fog through an exhilarated grin, she swung it upward into the gap she had made. Unable to help herself, she quipped, “Sorry for the heartbreak.”

Both hardened glass and shriveled flesh yielded to bulldozing steel, yet where she had expected a deluge of pitch-black liquid, there fell out a small gemstone - a many-faceted polyhedron, only slightly larger than a human eye. The beast’s legs were already shaking under its own weight as the remaining Nigredo was burned from its body. Thinking quickly, Zelsys palmed the gem and threw herself into a slide out from beneath the beast, ripping her cleaver free of its decrepit flesh.

She quickly stood and broke into a sprint to get farther away from the beast, its colossal weight shaking the ground well before she reached the barricade and turned around to look at what she had just slain. Holstering her blade as she watched the body begin turning to dust whilst Rubedo still rained down onto its back, she could do nothing but let out an exhilarated laugh. Then, Sigmund stumbled out of the building, looking around and pointing his stolen pistols. He visibly deflated in disappointment when he realized the beast was already dealt with. He muttered something about returning the pistols before the officer woke up and walked back into the checkpoint.

Second, Makhus finally stopped projectile-vomiting a continuous stream of Rubedo and fell to all fours, retching on the ground as he gasped, “Liqh- Liquid Vigor, need…”

His tattoos were still partially red.

Third, Zefaris leapt out of cover and ran over to him, trying to get him to drink pure Viriditas. He almost took a sip, but when the Green Fog hit his nose he pushed the bottle away, muttering “No, don’t wgh- waste…” just before he broke into another retching fit.

The cyclopean markswoman sighed in admonishment, untying one of the remaining seal-bottles from Makhus’s backpack, uncorking it, and bringing it to his mouth instead. He tilted his head up and downed it in one continuous gulp, allowing it to pour down his throat with ravenous thirst. His tattoos had turned black by the time the bottle was half-empty, but he kept drinking until it was empty.

Finally, he tossed the bottle aside and spat out a disgusting clump of bright-green mucus, struggling to his feet with Zefaris’s aid. “Never again,” he grumbled. “Let’s get outta ‘ere ‘fore the officer wakes up, this stench’ll stick to us for weeks otherwise.”

The swordsman rolled his shoulders and took a few deep breaths before he turned to finally cross the border properly, but he froze at the sight before him.